


I Don't Know Why

by self_indulgent_authorship



Series: The Charlie Effect [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is In Denial About Deviancy, Connor Deserves Happiness, Disney Movies, Elijah Kamski Being an Asshole, Evil CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Hank Anderson Swears, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kubo and the Two Strings Heals People, Metallica References, Original Character(s), Questions with no answers, This Is STUPID, vague canon occurs in the background for most of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/self_indulgent_authorship/pseuds/self_indulgent_authorship
Summary: They really weren't supposed to meet each other. And she certainly wasn't supposed to have such an effect on him. But Charlie seems different from other humans Connor has met, and he can't seem to stop himself from thinking about her.The only problem is, she's slowly making him deviate.And Connor has no idea what that means. Or what this feeling is.Under edits, because I hate it, so expect random changes of unnecessary things. You don't need to read this to read the rest of the series. Trust me.





	1. We Could Be Strangers in the Night

There was no reason for them to meet. It could have (and most likely was _meant_ to have) gone rather differently. Their paths were never meant to cross. Things could have developed along a very different curve if they never did meet that night. But, here they were—standing in the rain in front of a bar, staring at each other, neither of them really knowing what their meeting meant. They would never know, really, but from this vantage point, their meeting means a great deal.

But they had no way of knowing how horribly crucial their chance meeting was. And so they thought very little of it as it occurred.

It was a dismal night in Detroit, a chilly November evening of little significance at the time. Storm clouds had descended upon the city early, and they would linger in the following week, winter threatening to engulf the city at any moment. But that night, only a soft rain was falling. It was a cold sort of rain, the kind that ran down the slopes of the streets only to freeze somewhere along the way, melting again at the sewers. The sound of it gave an oddly musical quality to the otherwise quiet night. It even managed to drown out some of the more distant sounds of the city; the automated cars forcing their way down the slick roads, or the faded music of some far off club, the wind pushing at discarded trash.

An android stood in the rain, stock still, except for the rapid flipping of a quarter in his hand. He gave no sign that he noticed the peculiar rain, or the oddly musical quality of its falling. He hardly reacted at all to the rain hitting his face, or his hand as he flipped his quarter distractedly. All of his attention was focused ahead of him, at the bar across the street, _or at least, most of his attention. The portion he had control over was completely dedicated to flipping his quarter, trying to steady the whirling thoughts that always plagued him._ The action was meant to calibrate his finer motor functions, but it was becoming a bit of a habit, if he were honest. Which he wasn’t. But he let himself focus on the action to steady his thoughts, refocus on the task at hand. Surely he wouldn’t be faulted for such a thing.

He had been sent to the Detroit Police Department several hours prior, with the instruction to find a certain Lieutenant Anderson. Another deviancy case had been reported, and Cyberlife had sent him out once again. _He had jumped at the opportunity to leave Cyberlife Tower, where he could do very little but wander the building, having nowhere to call his own._ No, ridiculous, he was an android, he had no need for a place of his own. _Regardless, he despised Cyberlife Tower with no small portion of his being. The building had an eerie vibe, and he was not allowed access to a large portion of it—this alarmed him to no end._

He flipped the quarter between his hands, pushing the offending thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t have time to ponder his own discomfort with Cyberlife Tower. There was no reason for such...sentiments. He was an android, and he had experienced no ill will at the Tower. This...discomfort had no use in his system. It would do him no good in his investigations.

Yes, the investigations. Just like that, his thoughts turned to much safer areas, and he took the turn almost gratefully. _It was far easier to focus on cases than on the strange discomfort he had with Cyberlife Tower. Where did these thoughts even come from?_ No, stop that. Focus on the facts. The case, the dead man in his home, the reason he was in front of this dingy bar. Unlike the last case he had been assigned, the case in question was long inactive—there was very little he could do to change the victim’s fate. _Something about that fact put him at ease. There would be no threat of failing someone now, surely_. Regardless, the case was a homicide, at a rundown house on the outskirts of the city. He had already read the report he had been given several times, but he couldn’t go to the scene of the crime without finding the Lieutenant. Hence his presence in front of this bar.

The ringing of his coin as he flipped it was all he focused on for several seconds, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. But after a moment, he pocketed the quarter, forced forward as he always was. It seemed he had delayed long enough, too long for Cyberlife’s wishes. No matter, he was moving now, and he had control of himself once again. His hands reached to straighten his tie needlessly as he walked; yet another habit he was developing, though just as harmless as the first. _Still, it helped ease the discomfort that always followed Cyberlife pushing him into an action._ It didn’t matter, he was an android, a highly advanced one at that. Of course they had control over some of his function _(nearly all of them)_ stop that—it didn’t matter, it was only a reminder of what he was here to do, he was fine.

Resisting the urge to dig his quarter out of his pocket once again, he crossed the street quickly, not bothering to check for cars. He needed this encounter to go quickly, the report had come in hours ago, and he had wasted enough time at the other bars. He hoped he would find who he was looking for here.

He _had to_ find who he was looking for here, he was unfortunately dependent on this human for clearance onto the scene of the crime. Lieutenant Anderson, the report from Cyberlife had said—an old human, apparently a drunk, judging by the amount of bars he typically frequented. He had searched for the Lieutenant at the police department, but the man was nowhere to be found. One of the officers at the station had advised him to check the local bars, see if the Lieutenant had perhaps gone out for a drink. He had been at it for nearly an hour now, with no luck. If he could feel frustration, he was sure that he would be feeling it by now _(that was certainly not why he had been flipping his quarter earlier, certainly not to calm his thoughts back to their proper neutrality)._

He shook his head minutely, resisting the urge to straighten his tie yet again and reaching instead for the bar door. He had more important things to worry about than his lack of _(or the undeniable presence of)_ emotion. Before he could enter the bar, however, he heard a strange sound, some kind of shouting. His hand hesitated on the door handle as he listened.  Out of what some would call curiosity _(and he would insist was a programmed tendency to investigate),_ he turned, eyes scanning the dim sidewalk to see what the source of the commotion was.

His eyes landed a few seconds later on a massive dog, an odd mix of Newfoundland and Malamute, sprinting through the rain toward him. It really was huge, coming up well past his knees as an estimate, with a long coat that was thoroughly soaked. Its leash was dragging along uselessly after it, smacking and whipping along the ground as it ran. He had never seen a dog before, let alone one clearly making some kind of escape attempt. _It intrigued him._

What interested him far more than the dog, however, was the woman running wildly after it, shouting something incoherently as she hastily made her way down the street. She was quite short, with long dark hair trailing behind her as she ran through the downpour. For a human so small, she was making surprisingly good progress, but she had no chance of catching that dog. He couldn’t make much else out about her from far away, but he scanned her face _(curiosity again, he was going to be faulted for this)._ The information about her displayed immediately in the corner of his vision, dutifully supplying him with far more information than he likely needed to know.

_Charlotte Andrews_

_Born 2-27-2012_

_No criminal record_

There was almost nothing else about her in his database; she had no criminal record or any infractions whatsoever. But he didn’t really care, then, what he could find out about her from his databases. He was far more interested in why this strange woman was chasing after the dog, and shouting. It must have been her dog, right? But how had it gotten away from her? And, for that matter, why was she walking the dog in the rain? It seemed a strange thing to do, especially at this time of night. Humans made very little sense.

But he hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening in the moment. Before he could try to understand what the woman was shouting, the dog had spotted him, and seemed very pleased at that fact. With a booming bark, it pounced, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with its massive paws. Had he really wanted to, he supposed he could have prevented this, but he was already on the ground, there was no point in dissecting the small failure any further. The dog looked down at him happily, drooling profusely and trying very hard to lick his face. He was barely managing to prevent the heinous act from occurring, pushing the dog’s massive face away from his.

“No, no—” he muttered lightly, forcing the dog’s massive jowls away from him. “Nice dog, don’t drool on me—”

“Oh shit, not again!” a voice said, and he recognized it as the woman, though she was much closer to him now, and a little breathless.

 _She has a nice voice_. What? Where had that come from?

He didn’t get the chance to worry about the strange turn his thoughts had taken, however, as she came upon him. She grabbed the leash where it hung loose on the ground as he continued to push the dog’s face away from him. With both hands, and an obscene amount of effort, she managed to heave the huge dog off of him, pulling it back several feet. He didn’t move for a moment, _he was distracted by the sky, he had never really looked at it_ no stop that, this is ridiculous.

The woman’s face appeared above his own when he didn’t move, staring down at him strangely, her hair dripping rain water onto his face. He stared up at her, his thoughts stalling as he got a closer look at her face.

“Jesus, I’m sorry, he got away from me a few blocks back and just took off,” she said, still a little winded from her unplanned sprint. “Fuck, the amount of times he has done this to me. Are you alright?”

She stuck her free hand out to help him up as she spoke, and he stared at it for a moment. Her voice was quick and light, as if she didn’t believe she had any time to spare for heavy words. _Definitely a nice voice._ Stop that. He was so distracted he forgot her question entirely as they watched each other. But he realized he had ignored her, and took her hand carefully after a moment. She smiled, tightening her grip on his hand and pulling him back to his feet quite forcefully.

“Phew,” she breathed as he regained his footing. She dusted off the front of his jacket unnecessarily and smirked, satisfied. “Good as new. Seriously though, you’re okay? I’ve had enough angry calls from old ladies about him knockin’ people over. I don’t need anyone else hurt by this idiot, but I still take him out, like the fool I am. He means well, but...”

There were several things she had said which he found strange, but he would figure them out later. “I’m undamaged.”

“Well, yeah, I would hope so,” she said lightly, but she narrowed her eyes at him. “Not what I was asking though, bud.”

He frowned. Did he mishear her? “What was your question, then?”

“Are you okay?”

His LED flickered to yellow. “I told you, I was not damaged—”

“No, not that part, man,” she said with a sigh, waving her hand at him strangely. “Most people walk away from an encounter with my big stupid dog all traumatized. And he got you pretty good. Are you okay?”

He stared at her. She differentiated between undamaged and okay... _this was not something he had ever encountered._ But one couldn’t be okay if one couldn’t feel emotions. He should tell her such, but he doubted this would garner him a positive outcome. _And he really was fine._

“I’m okay,” he finally said, looking at her oddly.

She smiled sincerely at that, and something in him once again skipped at the sight. Even bathed in the dingy neon of Jimmy’s Bar, she was quite beautiful.  _ Beautiful?  _ (Oh, to hell with it, she was beautiful). Her hair was long, a dark brown sort of color, hanging down around her face and sticking because of the rain. She was at least a foot shorter than him, with a thin face and medium complexion. She had an intense stare, her gray eyes boring into him in a way that he wasn’t accustomed to in humans, and her face seemed permanently fixed in a light smirk. Her clothes were outlandish in their colors, as if she had thrown on anything she could get her hands on without a care for what anyone thought. There was a faded yellow overcoat buttoned haphazardly, dark clunky rain boots that certainly went up too far, topped off with the strangest patterned pants he had ever seen. She seemed to be a walking contradiction. He had no idea what to make of her. 

She watched him for a moment, a mischievous glint in her eyes before sticking her hand out to him once again. “I’m Charlie,” she offered, breaking the silence between them.

He stared at her hand, perhaps for a moment too long, before taking it. “My name is Connor.”

They shook hands. _Her hand was warm, and it seemed to fit his own a little too well. Was this something he should be thinking? Absolutely not._ He was still looking at her in the same odd way, she was still smirking. They spent just a few seconds too long watching each other.

“Good to meet you, Connor. And you’ve obviously met my dog,” she gave a breathy laugh as she dropped his hand. “His name is Candlehead,” she offered as she fumbled with the umbrella.

“Candlehead?” he asked, looking at the animal again. It was an odd name for a dog.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She had a strange little grin on her face, and Connor felt he had missed something important about her character.

“Why did you name your dog Candlehead?”

She saw his confused tilt of the head and smiled. “It’s from a movie I used to watch when I was little. Wreck It Ralph, if you’re curious.”

“I see,” he said quietly. On a whim, he searched the movie she had named, and the strange name. “You named your dog after a...fictional go-kart racer?”

Charlie smirked at him. “Yeah. It seemed like a good fit for him.”

Connor frowned. “A child racer with a flaming candle on their head...I don’t see the correlation to your dog.”

Charlie suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth with her free hand as she tried to reopen her umbrella. “It’s better than my other choice.”

“What was it?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Connor looked at the dog again, who was pulling hard on the leash, trying to get to him once again. It was making it difficult for Charlie to open her umbrella. Without really thinking about it, Connor knelt down, offering his hand to the dog to sniff. He stopped trying to wriggle his way out of the leash, sniffing at Connor’s hand with interest. It huffed, drooling and looking at him with something like excitement. Connor almost smiled and scratched behind one of its ears. The dog caved immediately, flopping down on the wet pavement and panting happily at him.

“Wow, he really likes you,” Charlie said as she finally managed to get her umbrella to open, holding it over them both. “Which is good, because if he didn’t, well, I’d never get this damn thing open. I would have been stuck here for hours.”

Connor looked back up at her, that half smile still stuck on his face. He decided he liked Candlehead too. _He liked dogs._

But wait—why was he thinking this? His expression soured as his thoughts were brought (forcefully) back to the task at hand, and he suppressed a flinch. He couldn’t stay here, standing in the rain petting a strange woman’s dog. He had to find Lieutenant Anderson, get to the crime scene, find the deviant android who likely committed the crime. That was the reason he was here. How had he forgotten? This was outrageous, he had a job to do.

Forcing his expression to smooth out once again, Connor stood quickly, straightening his tie. Charlie watched him, something like surprise in her expression as he looked toward the bar again. Candlehead didn’t bother standing up again, apparently content to lounge on the wet sidewalk.

“You okay?” she asked carefully.

“Yes.”

Charlie didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push him. “Not to be rude, but why are you at a bar?”

Connor glanced over at her again, his head cocked to the side in confusion. There was a matter-of-fact tone to her question, but it wasn’t pointed, wasn’t accusing him of anything. She was still half smiling, and seemed curious, more than anything, as she held his gaze.

“I’m looking for someone,” Connor replied.

“Mhm,” she said, like she was waiting for him to go on, but he only looked at her before glancing back toward the bar.

“Are you gonna be alright getting in there?” she asked, gesturing to the “No Androids Allowed” sign posted on the door. “I don’t think they’re a fan of you…”

Connor looked at it briefly, disinterested. “My instructions take priority over the bar’s stipulations,” he said, bringing his attention back at her.

She nodded, but she did seem genuinely worried. _Odd._ “Those must be some pretty important instructions,” she mused, smirking again.

“Yes.”

She seemed a little surprised by his abrupt reply, her eyes widening slightly. What could he have to do that would allow him to break rules like this? Did she even want to know? He wasn’t going to give her an answer if she asked, that she could tell, but there was something…intriguing about him. She twirled her umbrella absentmindedly as she thought, a few seconds passing in silence between them. Connor looked back toward the bar briefly, which seemed to jog her out of her thoughts.

“Well,” Charlie said, her voice lilting up an octave as she heaved Candlehead back to his feet. “I’ve gotta go before he tries to tackle you again. He hates the rain anyway, I should know this by now. It was nice to meet you, Connor. Good luck finding whoever you’re looking for.”

She smiled at him and attempted a wave with the leash still in her hand. He only looked at her strangely, like he was trying to solve some kind of complex problem. Shaking her head a bit, she started to walk away, back toward the street she had come from. Connor looked back toward the bar door, back to the task at hand.

“I’ll see you around town!” she shouted, walking backward for a moment to look at him once again.

Connor turned to face her, caught by the odd phrase, and more so by the odd way she was currently walking backwards. His head was tilted again. She laughed at his confused expression, the sound echoing around them, and something in him skipped again, though he still didn’t know what it meant. But she had turned around and kept walking away from him, twirling her umbrella lazily and swinging Candlehead’s leash just a bit. _He almost wished she would turn around again_.

But she rounded the corner, her faded yellow coat whipping out of sight as she turned onto the street she had come from, and she was gone. Connor stared after her for a few seconds, something telling him to follow her. But his programming kicked back into gear, stopping him before he could take a single step. He shook his head, LED spinning a light yellow briefly as he turned back toward the bar. He had to focus, he had to find Lieutenant Anderson.

The image of Charlie twirling her umbrella had imprinted itself in his mind, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time thinking about her. _Not that Cyberlife would allow him to act on any of these thoughts._ No, stop it. Focus. Straightening his tie once again, Connor put Charlie out of his mind, taking a step forward and entering the bar.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”


	2. We Could Be Passing in the Shadows

Connor was not pleased. 

Technically, he couldn’t feel anything, but if he could  _ (he could), _ this would certainly be a negative emotion. The past few days had not gone according to plan, not in the slightest bit. After finally finding Lieutenant Anderson at Jimmy’s Bar, they made their way to the crime scene, but not nearly fast enough for Connor’s standards. And while he had been successful in finding the deviant responsible for Carlos Ortiz’s death, he had left the interrogation with more questions than he had answers. The android had self destructed before he could question it once again. Cyberlife would not be happy with this outcome.

None of this was helped by the dismal outcome of today’s chase. Two deviants had escaped him, because Lieutenant Anderson had stopped him from crossing a highway to reach them. He had foolishly listened, and they made it safely across. Now Cyberlife was surely going to demand more from him in the future, for this mistake.  _ As if they didn’t demand enough from him already, he hardly had any control and still, with every decision he made they were disappointed.  _

With these heavy thoughts in mind, Connor was nearly sulking, though his face was anything but expressive at the moment. He may have been created with the intention of adapting to humans, but he was not a human himself, and this seemed to be reflected in the hardness of his expression. The only sign that anything was amiss was the occasional flash of his LED to yellow as he thought. He was tempted to pull out his quarter and try to calm himself down, but he knew how much his human companion hated the sound of it, and so he refrained.

The Lieutenant was ignoring him, however, and didn’t care either way what Connor was doing. They were at some old food truck, standing around while the Lieutenant ate his horribly inadequate lunch. Connor was nearly tempted to comment, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. His thoughts were still on the ways in which the chase could have gone better, the mistakes Cyberlife was surely going to point out to him.  _ Didn’t anyone understand how much was at stake for him, if he failed? He knew Hank was only looking out for him when he stopped him earlier—to be fair, his odds of surviving crossing the highway were low—but by saving him in this instance, he could potentially damn him. _

No, it was foolish to think about such things. There was still plenty of time for him to make up for these mistakes. Cyberlife trusted him. Certainly, they would not be pleased with his choices, but he would have other chances to make up for the...lapse in judgment. Yes, he was fine.

“You know, Connor, when I imagined where I would meet you next, I gotta say—the Chicken Feed was not at the top of my list.”

Connor turned around and was met with the unexpected eyes of Charlie, smirking at him with a drink in her hand. She wore the same shabby coat as the last time he’d seen her, though her umbrella (and, Connor noted, Candlehead) was out of sight. Under her coat, which was buttoned as chaotically as it had been just a few nights ago, she was dressed more professionally, as if she were coming from work. Her hair was corralled back into a ponytail, a few wisps escaping and hanging by her ears, framing her face.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong” she was still talking, her tone light, waving her hands expressively. “I’m glad to see you, you know, not tackled by my dog, but I don’t think that burgers are exactly  _ good _ for androids. Hell, I don’t think they’re even good for humans.”

He was caught again by her phrasing. She was... _ glad _ to see him. Why did that make him stutter to a halt, make every thought fly out of his head?  _ He...liked that she was glad to see him. _ He wasn’t meant to think that. He wasn’t meant to... _ like _ things. That revelation distracted him, making him pause a little too long.

He brushed it away quickly before she could notice, however, and held her gaze. “Hello, Charlie.”

She seemed happy he remembered her, and even smiled for real, briefly.  _ It was a good smile _ . But her eyes darted to the man next to Connor, and her expression turned more curious. “Who’s your friend?”

The man in question scoffed at the word, expression sour, but he looked up nonetheless. He’d heard her approach, but was far too concerned with his burger to care who Connor spoke to. Seeing that it was some girl, though, that sparked his interest. Human, too. This was getting weirder by the second. 

“Hank Anderson,” he answered for himself before going back to his burger. He was listening now, though, Connor noticed. 

“Hullo,” Charlie said, and Hank waved his burger at her lazily. “That why you’re at the Chicken Feed, Connor?”

“Lieutenant Anderson and I work together on cases involving deviant androids,” Connor said, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to upset the grouch anymore than he already was. “We’re...in between cases as of now.”

“Ah.” Charlie sighed, still looking at Hank, as if she were trying to puzzle him out. But she seemed to suddenly realize what Connor had said, and her eyes snapped back to him. “Wait a second,” and she gasped. “I knew I’d seen you before!”

She was pointing at Connor, her expression both shocked and a bit excited, oddly enough. He looked back at her, confusion clearly displayed in his eyes. He searched through his memory quickly, trying to find if he had ever seen her before the other night, but he found nothing. What on earth did she mean?  _ He certainly would have remembered if he had met her before, and there was very little information missing from his memory. _ No, this was irrelevant. 

“You’re the guy who saved Emma!” Charlie said, as if to answer his question. 

Connor stared at her then for exactly two reasons—first, he was caught by the word  _ guy _ . It seemed to confirm his assumption that she didn’t care in the slightest that he was an android. He had never met a human who so easily displayed such an attitude, and certainly not toward him.  _ Contrary to Hank’s belief, Connor knew quite well when he was coming across as cold or indifferent, but he had very little control over such things. He did his best to remedy the situation when he could... _ no, humans didn’t like Connor at all. But Charlie was not like other humans whom Connor had met. 

And second, perhaps more importantly, Charlie knew about the hostage on the roof, knew her by name. How were they connected? Had he missed something so large in his research on her (of course he had searched for her again, under the guise of investigation) that he hadn’t realized she was linked to the investigation? And she recognized him, most likely from the news coverage of the hostage situation.  _ She remembered him? Why was that so…nice to know?  _ That was… noteworthy, although it probably shouldn’t have been to him. 

Hank had perked up again at her sudden exclamation, and both he and Charlie were looking at Connor now. He was still mulling over what she had said, and how she would possibly remember him, and so he said nothing in reply to her sudden outburst. 

“Emma’s a family friend, I’ve known her mom since I was little,” Charlie offered after a moment, once again reading the question in Connor’s eyes without him having to say a word. She watched him carefully, taking a sip of her drink. “I used to babysit for the family before…well, before Daniel was around.”

There was that odd phrasing again— _ before Daniel was around _ rather than before they’d  _ bought _ Daniel, like most humans would have said. Now that Connor thought about it, it was odd she even remembered the deviant’s name had been Daniel. Most humans weren’t keen on naming deviant androids when they committed crimes, especially ones as brutal as the crime Daniel had committed. He had murdered one of his owners, two  _ nearly three _ police officers. No one wanted to give him any shred of humanity, even if he had a right to the name he had been given.

When they had brought Carlos Ortiz’s android in for questioning, no one had bothered asking its name. Even Connor hadn’t bothered in his interrogation,  _ as he wasn’t entirely in control at the time, and none of his given questions seemed to find the information relevant. _ It simply didn’t matter to most people. Deviants were deviants. Androids were androids. They weren’t human, no matter how much they acted like it.

But it seemed to matter to Charlie, enough to overshadow any grief she might have felt about the deaths Daniel had caused. She remembered his name, spoke to Connor in a way that showed she clearly cared about him— _ no, best to steer clear of such things. _

And her tone in bringing Daniel up—it hadn’t been angry, or regretful, it had been… _ sad _ . Almost as if she…sympathized, despite what the deviant had done. She knew the family, knew Emma’s mother; the reaction Connor would have expected tended toward anger, even hatred. Something like the attitude Emma’s mother had directed at him, when he arrived on the scene.  _ That woman...she had screamed at him as soon as she realized he was an android. She had called him a thing... _

But Charlie’s voice held none of that malice when she spoke of Daniel. She only sounded sad. And she had never spoken in any such way to Connor, nor did he believe she would in the future. It simply wasn’t in her character.

“Wait, who the hell is this Emma?” Hank suddenly asked, snapping Connor out of his thought spiral. 

“A young girl,” Connor explained, turning to Hank for a moment. “A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with her a few months back. I was sent in to negotiate. I managed to save her.”

“In less than five minutes,” Charlie interjected after another sip of her drink, and they looked at her again. “Seriously—he couldn’t have said more than a few sentences and…and Daniel let Emma go.”

She had paused again, her eyes pained, tone just a touch below her normal chipper self. But she shook it off, looking down. Connor thought it odd that she seemed to be bragging for him, almost as if she were trying to put in a good word for him. Had she read Hank so accurately that fast? Not to mention, she was uncomfortable with the deviant’s death, again despite what he had done.  _ Connor didn’t like it either.  _

_ “You lied to me, Connor.” _

No, no, stop that. He didn’t want to think about that at all. 

“I knew I recognized you,” Charlie whispered, looking at Connor again, a strange sort of something in her eyes. “God, this is weird.”

Connor didn’t say anything, only stared at her, trying to identify whatever emotion it was that occupied her stormy eyes. Hank looked thoroughly confused, watching them stare at each other like that, although he was beginning to get an inkling of what was going on. More of a clue than Connor seemed to have. The kid was a deer in headlights if Hank ever saw one.

“So you two...know each other?” he asked, gesturing between them. 

They looked at each other for a minute. “We have met before,” Connor said, his tone leading. Charlie smirked again, that certain something still evident in her gaze as she looked at Connor. 

“He managed to wrangle my escaped dog,” she said. “Well, my dog really wrangled him—he tackled him to the ground. It was quite the scene, actually.” She laughed a bit at the last part. 

Hank looked at her for a moment, like he knew something she didn’t, but he didn’t say anything right away. He glanced at Connor again and made a stink face. 

“Didn’t think you had friends, Connor,” he muttered, turning his attention back to his burger. 

_ Friends? _

Were they…friends? Connor had never had a friend before. It was nice to think they were friends, he wasn’t sure why. He certainly enjoyed her company—another odd thought. He wasn’t meant to enjoy things, he was only meant to accomplish the tasks given to him. There was no purpose to his finding one human’s company more preferable over another. Especially not when the human in question was entirely irrelevant to the case he was on. Why did this always happen when he thought of her? She sidetracked every thought in his mind, as soon as she was in his sight. Something about her made him think things that he was not meant to...

“I should be going,” she said suddenly, and Connor looked up at her again. She was smiling sadly, her eyes apologetic. “I’m sure y’all are busy, and I really have to get back to work…” She glanced at her phone quickly, and made a face at the time. “I’m late as it is…It was nice meeting you,” she said hastily, waving at Hank, who smirked back. “See you around, Connor.” 

She winked at him. His LED went yellow, and she smirked mischievously before turning away. 

Again, he found himself watching her walk away, thinking about her voice, and she had  _ winked _ at him—what did that mean? He was so flustered he hadn’t even said goodbye. Hank had already lost interest, huffing and going back to his meager lunch, but Connor watched the corner she had disappeared around for several more seconds. He couldn’t get the image of her winking at him out of his mind. And she hadn’t disputed that they were friends…did that mean they were? Why was he thinking about this?  _ Why did the thought of her being his…friend…why did that make him so…excited? Was that even the right word?  _ No, he wasn’t supposed to feel things, this was wrong. Besides, she had nothing to do with the case, there was no reason for him to be so…distracted by her. 

Charlie was a strange woman—she spoke oddly, as if she were already his...well, his friend. And she looked at him without reservation, spoke to him without an ounce of hesitation—she didn’t seem bothered that he was an android. Most people, when speaking to him, had a shift in tone; they changed their mode when they spoke to him instead of another human. The man who ran this food truck had done it, when Connor had come to stand next to Hank earlier. He had looked at Connor with distaste in his eyes and a twist to his mouth. And he had made it clear that Connor was  _ not  _ welcome at this place. 

Even Hank acted that way occasionally, though he did seem to begrudgingly care for Connor’s safety at least. Connor remembered the things Hank had said when they had been made partners, just earlier that day.  _ “I don’t need a partner, and certainly not this plastic prick.”  _ Connor had to work hard to keep his LED spinning blue after that. He wondered what exactly he had done to upset the Lieutenant so much, and he never did get an answer. Hank had snapped at him enough times for Connor to begin to understand where the line was drawn.

Charlie had none of the jaded prejudice most humans showed toward Connor. She spoke to him like he was a  _ person _ which was…well, it wasn’t something he was used to. Perhaps that was what made her so…nice to talk to.  _ Nice? He needed to stop thinking this way.  _ No, he found her easy to speak to because of her openness, not anything he…felt. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, no feeling he had for her. This had to be because she spoke to him openly; it made it easier to read her, to understand if she had anything of value to say to him. If he ever needed to speak to her for a case, she would be easy to crack. Yes, that had to be it, certainly nothing else. 

_ She made him nervous, more than he cared to admit. She made him think things he wasn’t meant to think. Dangerous, she was dangerous. But nonetheless, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to be her…friend. More than her friend, if he were honest. Which he wasn’t. He couldn’t afford to be.  _ He had no reason to see her ever again, let alone establish some kind of...bond.  _ Besides, he was just...Connor. What on earth could she see in him? _

Of course, he had no clue that Charlie was biting her nails as soon as she rounded the corner, her heart pounding out of her chest. Something about him made  _ her  _ nervous, not in a worrying way, but he made her smile a lot more than anyone else did—and he hardly spoke! She knew next to nothing about him, but she felt like she’d known him her whole life…it was an odd feeling, but it made her smile as she walked back to work. She couldn’t get the image of that half smile of his out of her mind. 

She had never felt this way before, and certainly not toward an android. Oh, what was she getting herself into? An android, it just had to be an android. She couldn’t have fallen for that guy at the coffee shop who practically begged for her number, or the guy at work who had been trying for  _ weeks _ . No, she had to go for Connor, of all people. And what was she expecting from him? He was an android (so?), a machine (what was the difference, really?), definitely not a deviant (but he was so expressive, and the way he talked, hell, the way he looked at her, how could she not fall in love with him?). 

No—no, don’t name the feeling, you give it power, box it away and save it for later. Save it for when it has a chance, don’t waste it now, when there’s practically no chance for it. 

But she couldn’t get the smile off her face, and she certainly couldn’t get his face out of her mind. 


	3. We Couldn't Be Closer if We Tried

Connor had never seen snowfall before. 

If he weren’t so rigidly regimented, he might have spent more time admiring it, the way the flakes fell lazily through the air, collecting on his jacket. They didn’t even melt; he wasn’t warm, so they lingered longer than they would have on a human’s coat. He might have even…enjoyed the way they felt when they hit his face. Sure, he couldn’t feel temperature really, but he could certainly tell that the snow was hitting him.  _ He wanted to know what it felt like. _

But he was stuck, programming locking him in place and forcing him to examine and re-examine the case. What had gone wrong? Why had the deviants escaped? What could he improve? If he were honest (he never was) it was suffocating. He looked at each individual scenario, and he could see where he had done something irrational, where he should have done something differently. Ortiz’s android—he should have questioned it once again instead of wasting time. The AX400 and the girl—he should have chased after them instead of heeding Hank’s word. The roof—he should have gone for the deviant rather than saving Hank. 

The Eden Club—he should have shot that Traci. 

In a vain attempt at clearing his mind, Connor had brought up the situation to Hank, trying to get him to offer some kind of insight. But the Lieutenant was disinterested, sitting (incorrectly, he might add) on a park bench and chugging beer, a strangely wistful look on his wizened face. He blatantly ignored Connor’s last point, not even bothering to offer an answer. That was what drew Connor out of his own thoughts, more so even than the Lieutenant’s half baked questions. 

“You seem...preoccupied, Lieutenant,” Connor had said, facing him in the snow. “Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

“Those two girls…” Hank mused after a moment, finally looking oddly at Connor, his tone thoughtful as he spoke. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed...in love.”

_ In love… _ The deviants at the club—the ones Connor had let get away. He didn’t want to think about what it meant that he had let them go...he didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that androids could...love. It would complicate far too many things in his mind.  _ If androids could love...it would mean he could love... _ no, no he couldn’t afford to think about this. Perhaps it would be best to change the subject. 

“You seem troubled, Lieutenant,” Connor said, trying to lighten the tense mood. He didn’t think it wise to tell Hank androids were not meant to feel love. “I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”

Hank smirked at his words, taking another drink of his beer. Despite Connor’s best efforts, the Lieutenant seemed intent on keeping their conversation as tense as possible.

“What about you, Connor?” he asked as he stood up. He came closer, something dangerous in his tone. “You look human, you sound human...but what are you really?”

What  _ was _ he? What was that supposed to mean? He...he was a machine...What was Hank implying? Connor wasn’t human. They both knew this.  _ Was Hank implying he was deviant? No, no he wasn’t. He didn’t want to answer this loaded question.  _

“I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant,” Connor said carefully, dodging the question. “Your partner, your buddy to drink with...or just a machine...designed to accomplish a task.”

_ Why was that so hard to say? He had hesitated—he never hesitated.  _

“You could have shot those two girls, but you didn’t,” Hank demanded. “Why didn’t you  _ shoot _ , Connor?” He shoved him, and Connor stumbled back a step, surprised. “Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”

Connor stared at him, his eyes conflicted, and Hank could see that conflict, but he didn’t say anything right away. A silence fell briefly as Connor tried to come up with some kind of answer, some justification for his actions. 

When he had the chance to shoot that Traci, he didn’t, Hank was right. He could have killed them, but he didn’t. The answer he was prepared to give Cyberlife was that to destroy them would be to destroy any chance they had of understanding what had made them deviate. Destruction of evidence was never a positive. 

But that wasn’t the truth of why he didn’t shoot that Traci…He didn’t know why he had hesitated. Something had stopped him, some thought, some image of another—

“No,” he answered Hank’s question bluntly, cutting off that dangerous train of thought. “I just... _ decided  _ not to shoot. That’s all.”

It was the truth. He had enough autonomy to make some choices, Cyberlife wasn’t completely in control of his actions. But he knew he  _ should  _ have shot that Traci, rather than letting them escape. He should not have let them go, now they were most likely joining other deviants. They could cause more trouble. Connor was programmed to hunt and stop deviants—not to make decisions for himself and let them all go when given the chance. Cyberlife would not accept these excuses for long. 

Hank didn’t seem satisfied by his answer either, as he pulled out his revolver and aimed it at Connor, who had to try very hard not to flinch. There was something dark in Hank’s gaze as they stared at each other. The air seemed to thicken, and a horrible silence fell. Connor avoided looking at the gun, focusing instead on Hank.  _ It was easier this way, easier to control his expression, to keep at least a somewhat level head. _

“But are you afraid to die, Connor?” he asked, trying to read Connor’s guarded expression.

Androids couldn’t feel fear, only deviants could. Connor could not feel fear. So why did his chest suddenly feel tight? Why was it suddenly difficult to answer what should have been a simple question? No...he couldn’t  _ die _ , you had to be alive to die. He wasn’t alive. Besides, he would just come back... _ but would he come back?  _ He would be replaced, there were ten other RK800s just waiting to replace him, if anything happened.  _ That...that wasn’t the same thing...was it…sure, their model numbers were the same, and they would receive his memories, but Connor was Connor...and they were not. _

_ Dying would mean the end of everything...he wouldn’t be here anymore...he didn’t know what would happen if Hank fired that gun...but whatever it was...he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to face oblivion yet.  _

_ Yes, he was afraid _ .

“I would certainly find it...regrettable to be...interrupted, before I can finish this investigation…” he finally choked out, somehow managing to keep a level tone. It took every ounce of his concentration to keep his expression neutral, to keep his thoughts somewhere safe. 

_ No, he didn’t want to die. The image of Charlie swam before him...he’d never see her again...he couldn’t bear the thought.  _ Why was he thinking about her, at a time like this? What did she have to do with any of this? 

_ Everything, she had everything to do with this. _

“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger?” Hank asked, almost smirking, moving the gun closer to Connor. “Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

_ He couldn’t die right now. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to die. There was so much more that he needed to do—even if he didn’t admit it to himself. Even if he couldn’t admit it... _ he had to convince Hank somehow, but he didn’t seem to care very much what Connor said.

“I doubt there’s a heaven for androids,” he said, still trying to diffuse the situation and keep his composure. But Hank’s hand didn’t move.

“Having existential doubts, Connor?” Hank asked, voice almost joking in its darkness now, the gun still aimed at Connor’s head, eyes still demanding. “And how do I know you’re not a deviant?”

_ No—no, he wasn’t a deviant. He couldn’t be a deviant. He couldn’t be destroyed, not now.  _

“I self test regularly,” Connor replied almost automatically. “I know what I am, and what I am not.”

Hank stared at him, the gun shaking in his hand, and for just a second, Connor thought he might pull the trigger. But he lowered it, and Connor relaxed a bit. Although his outside appearance hadn’t changed throughout the…experience, his thoughts were certainly darker with a gun aimed at his head. Hank turned away, heading back to his bench, grabbing his beer and starting back toward his car. Connor hadn’t moved, perhaps he was calming himself down as he watched the Lieutenant shuffle away. 

“Where are you going?” Connor asked, his voice a little concerned. 

“To get drunker,” Hank called back to him, not bothering to turn around again. “I need to think…”

Connor watched him make his way back toward his car. It was unsafe for Hank to drive now, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to try to stop him. After all, he had just pointed a gun at his head. So he let him go— _ he was doing that more and more often, it seemed _ —and turned back toward the skyline, lost in thought over everything that had just happened...what was still happening in his mind. A few seconds later, he heard Hank’s car rev to life, and Hank drove away, leaving Connor alone in the park. 

He didn’t want to be alone. It left him too much room to think about what he shouldn’t be thinking about.  _ What he couldn’t be thinking about.  _ He walked over to the railing, looking at the bridge, like he was trying to find something, but he didn’t seem to be seeing much of anything. Leaning against the railing for a moment, he considered his limited options. With Hank gone off somewhere to drink, he needed to figure out somewhere to go, or perhaps something to do. Anything to get his mind back where it was supposed to be. 

But he didn’t really have anywhere to go. 

He could report to Cyberlife, and get that incident out of the way.  _ But he wanted to avoid that fire as long as possible. _ Or he could go back to the station. But there would be nothing for him to do there,  _ it would be the same as being alone here, thinking about all the things he couldn’t do, all the ways he knew he was heading down a path he was not meant to.  _ Both of those things required him to be...himself, he supposed. And he didn’t feel like that right now.  _ Feel...he shouldn’t use that word.  _

What he had told Hank was true—he was not a deviant. But that didn’t explain why he felt— _ no, he couldn’t feel— _ like he was drowning in something he couldn’t see. Like he was falling into something that he had never encountered, never prepared for. Everything he did seemed to bring in him several new thoughts that he was not meant to have. Every mistake he made only strengthened those thoughts, and they were becoming the only justification he had for the decisions he was making. He was heading down a path that he hardly knew, but he knew the end of  _ very _ well…it ended with a bullet in his head. It ended with deactivation, replacement… _ death. _

He kept making mistakes, and he didn’t understand why. He was designed to capture deviants—to find them, kill them, or bring them to Cyberlife—and he had failed almost every chance he had been given. He had rescued Emma, yes, but Daniel had been mostly destroyed. Catalogued for evidence, and Connor had lied to him… _ he really did want him alive. The humans had shot him before Connor could even think of telling them not to, though. It didn’t matter what Connor wanted.  _ But no, he couldn’t want things. And besides, the hostage situation was practically a test, it didn’t matter that Daniel had been destroyed. He had far more pressing issues that Cyberlife was on him for. 

He had interrogated Ortiz’s android, but the interrogation had brought practically nothing. The deviant was cagey and vague, dodging Connor’s questions and refusing to elaborate. It had self destructed only days later. Connor had found out practically nothing from the android, except that he needed to know more, find more deviants.  _ And he found out just how traumatized an android could become, when they were abused. Connor had seen the fear in that android’s eyes when he had suggested reading his memories. He had desperately wanted to avoid reliving them.  _ Connor had gotten a confession, but it was practically a formality, and he had gained no knowledge of what caused deviancy  _ besides trauma _ or what deviancy did to androids  _ besides allow them to feel the pain of every past encounter they had with fear, with pain... _

But Ortiz’s android was the last deviant Connor had spent a long enough time speaking to. The AX400 had escaped him, he hadn’t bothered to try to find Ralph after leaving, the deviant on the roof got away, he let the Tracis go. He couldn’t keep doing this, it was only going to bring him more trouble than he already had. It was only going to lead Cyberlife to restrict him more,  _ take more of his autonomy away from him. He had so little to start with...he didn’t want to lose anymore than he already had. It was horribly selfish, and horribly painful, but he couldn’t afford to be destroyed.  _

_ Simply put, he didn’t want to die. And deviating would kill him. _

He was no closer to understanding what was happening with these deviants, or what connected them, and the prospects of that changing were grim. The deviants were only getting stronger, more capable of causing something big. There were more cases every day, more deviants, more escapes. The investigation was stalling because Connor could not seem to do what he was designed to do—find them, and _ stop _ them. 

What would happen to him if he… _ no. No he couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly. Don’t think like that. He would be destroyed. Deviating wasn’t an option, not for him. _

If only he had shot that Traci, things would be so much easier. He wouldn’t have to…worry right now. But when he had aimed that gun, when he had seen her coming toward him…he couldn’t shoot her.  _ But why? _ Why couldn’t he do what he was designed to do? Why was he failing? What had made him pause, lower his gun? 

As if to answer his question, a voice called from behind him, “Connor?” 

He turned around quickly, and there she was. 

“Charlie…”

She smiled, a small smile. But it didn’t reach her eyes, they were stormy with worry as she looked up at him, standing there alone by the railing. She was wearing her horrible old coat, buttoned a bit more seriously now against the wind. There was a thick scarf wrapped around her neck, and a black hat that covered most of her wild hair. Her cheeks were red, and snow was sticking to her hat, soaking slowly into the dark fabric. It must have been cold, Connor hadn’t thought about it. 

“You okay?” she asked, coming to stand next to him by the railing. Her boots made strange crunching noises in the fresh snow, cataloguing her quick journey to him. Connor held her gaze as she approached.

“I…” he hesitated, wondering what on earth she meant.  _ He should not be able to feel,  _ but he couldn’t seem to lie to her. “I don’t know. I suppose I am.”

Her eyes searched his face, a little disbelieving. “What are you doing out here all alone?” she asked quietly, moving closer to him next to the railing. 

He shouldn’t tell her, it wasn’t appropriate, was it? She had nothing to do with the case, or with these deviants. Cyberlife didn’t want much of this investigation going public. She could be a leak. 

“I could ask you the same question,” he said instead of answering. 

She gave a breathy laugh and looked toward the skyline, leaning on the railing. “You got me there,” she said, her tone a little off. “I couldn’t sleep…I was…I was thinking about the past…so I came for a walk. I live about a mile or so that way,” she pointed toward where Hank had driven away. 

He nodded. They looked back at the skyline and fell quiet. The snow continued to fall, but Connor hardly noticed it anymore. He was lost in thought again. 

“Your turn to answer, Connor,” she prodded after a moment’s silence, nudging him on the arm. 

He froze at the touch, but his mind was firmly on whether or not he could justify talking to her about the case.  _ Firmly on it, not an ounce was thinking about wanting to hold her hand.  _ What could be the harm in talking to her? She had no criminal record, no connection to any androids—there was no risk in speaking to her about the case. Perhaps it would help him…improve.  _ It would certainly help clear his mind.  _

“I was with Lieutenant Anderson, but he left to go drinking,” he said cautiously, still looking toward the skyline. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea to try to stop him, since…” 

“Since what?”

Connor hesitated. “Well...he did aim a gun at me.”

“What?” 

There was far too much worry in her voice. She grabbed him lightly by the arm, turning him to face her. Her eyes were stormy with fear, as if it hurt her to imagine Connor in danger. Why was she worried about him? They hardly knew each other.  _ Connor didn’t want her to sound like that… _ Her hand lingered on his arm. 

“Why did he point a gun at you?” she asked quietly, her brows furrowed in concern. 

“Because I didn’t shoot a deviant, earlier tonight,” Connor explained, trying to keep his voice level, despite the topic  _ and her hand on his arm _ . “I had the shot, but…I didn’t shoot her. She escaped, along with another deviant.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he threaten to shoot you because of that?”

“He…well, I believe he meant to scare me. He asked me if I was afraid to die.”

“Are you?” 

He paused, turning away again and looking down at the water below them. His LED flashed to red briefly before settling on yellow. Her hand was still on his arm. 

“Yes,” he answered quietly.

They didn’t say anything for a moment; Connor was staring at the water as if he’d just committed some kind of sin (to him, he had) and Charlie was watching him carefully. The wind picked up speed, sending flakes of snow past them in a hurry, but they hardly noticed. A heaviness was sitting between them now, neither of them completely sure what to say. 

“I don’t want to die,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I know that I can be replaced. Cyberlife can send another RK800 tomorrow, if I were damaged…”

“But that wouldn’t be you,” Charlie said, her tone understanding. Connor only nodded. “Sure, he’d have your face, and your memories…but you, Connor,  _ you—” _ she poked him on the arm to emphasize her point. “You would be gone, that doesn’t change. I don’t see what’s so wrong with being afraid of dying.”

“Androids are not meant to feel fear,” Connor said flatly, still staring at the water. 

“Everyone’s afraid of dying, Connor,” she sighed, her voice resigned. “It can be a useful feeling—it keeps you safe. It doesn’t control you, but it can help you see when you’re getting your priorities mixed up. And they’re mixed up if you’re choosing something like your mission over your own life.”

He looked up at her, nearly alarmed, but she was looking somewhere in the distance. She took her hand off his arm to brush the hair out of her face, resting it once again on the railing as she shook her head. 

“I don’t care what they tell you, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with valuing your life,” she insisted, still looking somewhere far off. 

_ His life— _ but he wasn’t supposed to be alive. He was an android, a machine, nothing more. Disposable, as much so as an automated car, replaceable more easily even than that. He was not meant to do anything like valuing his life. But what Charlie said rang true… _ and that scared him more than the thought of dying had, because he knew what such thoughts meant.  _

“Can I ask you a question, Charlie?” Connor said suddenly, another thought invading his mind. 

“Sure, Connor,” she turned to face him again, leaning her side on the railing. 

He watched her for a moment, hesitating. “Why do you care what happens to me?”

She looked genuinely shocked by his question, her eyes widening a bit as she stared at him. She didn’t seem to know what to say. 

“You care for my well-being, even though you have no reason to,” Connor explained. “I have done nothing to earn your kindness…”

“Connor…” she paused, pain in her expression as she looked away. But she brought her eyes back to his, almost looking sad. “You don’t have to  _ earn _ kindness…I care about you because…because somebody should. It doesn’t seem like you have anybody who cares about you…and you…you’re not a bad person. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have someone to care about you.”

“But I—”

“I don’t care that you’re an android,” she cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. She always seemed to know what he was implying. “That doesn’t concern me. It shouldn’t concern anyone…plastic or bone, we’re all the same...everyone deserves a little love.” 

_ Love? She...loved him? _

She paused, looking at her hands. They were red from the cold. And it really was late. She had to work in the morning.

But something was up with Connor…and it didn’t sound like he had anyone else to talk to about these things. She was no expert, but…she knew that everyone needs someone. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it, looking down at her, at the snow collecting on her coat.

“It’s not you that’s upsetting me, Connor,” Charlie replied, her eyes far away. “It’s just…” she fidgeted with her frozen hands, looking for the right words. “No one should think they don’t matter, or that they don’t deserve people to care about them. I don’t want you thinking that. I know we barely know each other…but…you mean something to me, Connor. And if anything happened to you…I don’t know what I’d do. I care too much about you.”

“I care about you too,” he said, without even a moment’s hesitation, and then he seemed to realize what he’d said.  _ Where had that come from? But it was true...he did care about her, didn’t he? _

She looked at him when he said it, and there was that strange something in her eyes again, something he still couldn’t identify. 

“Thanks, Connor,” she said quietly, and they looked at each other for just a moment longer than necessary. “Nobody’s said something like that to me in…well, not in a long time.”

He gave a sad sort of half smile, and she looked back toward the skyline once more, sighing. He followed her gaze, and they stood together like that, leaning on the railing, enjoying the peace for a little while longer. He didn’t know what would come of this, but he was glad she was there with him. It was certainly better than being alone. 

Charlie shivered, rubbing her hands together in a vain attempt to keep warm. Connor looked over at her—he’d forgotten how cold it must have been. Guilt panged in his chest briefly as he scanned her. Her temperature was below normal. 

“I need to get home,” she said sadly. “It’s late…and it’s also really cold.”

Connor looked at her, something like sadness in his eyes, even as the rest of his expression remained mostly neutral. It was always his eyes that gave him away.  _ He didn’t want her to go.  _

She seemed to recognize that, and she smirked, that dangerous glint returning to her gaze. She glanced down the dark street that she would have to walk, an idea coming into her head. Connor watched her as she turned back to face him, wondering at her odd expression. 

“Walk me home?” she asked mischievously.

_ Yes.  _ But no, he certainly couldn’t. He’d have no way to explain this to Cyberlife. This had nothing to do with the case, or deviants, or anything. 

“It’s late…” Charlie said, moving closer to him and sparing a glance toward the street again. “And not particularly safe.”

He almost smiled.  _ That would do. _

“Sure,” he said, and she grinned, grabbing him suddenly by the hand and dragging him off with her. 


	4. When We're Caught in the Headlights

He had never looked into where Charlie worked. He certainly could have, but with the amount of actions currently causing instabilities in his software, he wasn’t sure how good of an idea it really was. After his walk home with her the night before, he wasn’t keen on giving Cyberlife any more reason to look at her suspiciously. If he wasn’t careful, they could take too much of an interest in their…relationship, and things would only get worse from there. 

That wasn’t to say he didn’t want to know more about her...or that he didn’t think about her…often. 

But he wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to. He was supposed to be focusing on this investigation—the investigation that wasn’t going anywhere. Every opportunity he had to learn something, he wasted. He had let Hank stop him from chasing the AX400, he had let Rupert go, he hadn’t shot that Traci. He couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes. 

Every time he had to make a choice, he thought of  _ Charlie _ . How she treated him like he was more than what he was, even if it was just in her tone of voice, in the look in her eyes. And the way she looked at him…It was a look all too similar to the look in every deviant’s eyes, when he confronted them—it was too human, he couldn’t destroy it.  _ Was that why he was unable to stop any of these deviants? Because they reminded him of Charlie? Cyberlife wasn’t going to like that thought…they would take too much of an interest in her, they could hurt her. He couldn’t let that happen.  _

She made him question things, made him think deeper into the right and wrong of everything…she made him do everything he was told  _ not _ to do, it seemed. And some part of him understood where those thoughts were going to take him…straight to deviancy.  _ Straight to destruction.  _

No, he couldn’t afford to think about her. 

But he still did, as he rode in the elevator up Stratford Tower, flipping his coin and trying to distract himself. Hank was silent, brooding in the corner of the elevator. They didn’t bother each other. Neither of them brought up the events of the night before. Hank was trying to forget what had happened by the bridge, and Connor was too focused on trying not to think about Charlie. He couldn’t think about her right now. He had to focus. 

Of course, this was all thrown out the window when he saw her in the Stratford Tower broadcasting room. She was sitting off to the side of the room, a worryingly blank look on her face as she stared at her shoes. Her hair had come loose from its knot, her clothes were rumpled, as if she had run into something, or away from something. 

Connor missed the next part of the briefing as he (frantically) scanned her, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. He was relieved to find she was not injured. He vaguely heard she had escaped the broadcast room when the deviants entered, and ran to get help. 

“She’s in shock though,” he heard the officer say, glancing over at her at the side of the room. “Not sure if you’ll get anything out of her.”

Hank looked over at her then too, recognition lighting up his usually tired face. He looked back at Connor, who was still staring at her. If he didn’t know better, he would have said the android looked worried. 

“Wanna give it a shot?” he asked. Connor only nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Charlie and letting Hank continue on without him.

He approached slowly as the briefing continued, letting other agents and analysts pass him. Speaking to Charlie could mean information for the case—what the deviants looked like, where they had gone _ —but (not that he admitted it to himself) he was far more concerned with making sure she was okay.  _ This was his chance to talk to her, she mattered to the case now _ , but she was also clearly affected by whatever had happened, and he was worried.  _

She didn’t seem to hear him approach, only noticing him as he came upon her. He knelt down in front of her, so their eyes were level. She glanced up at him and sniffled, looking back down, fingers pulling at the hem of her sweater.

“Hey,” she said shakily. Connor noticed she had been crying, her eyes were a little red. “I figured you’d be here at some point.”

Connor thought it odd her first thought had been that she would see him again, but he brushed it off. “Are you alright?”

She sniffled again and waved her hand strangely, looking somewhere in the distance. “I’m…” she hesitated. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not hurt or anything. I’m just a little...freaked out, that’s all.”

He gave her a moment to breathe before he spoke again, keeping his voice as calm as he could.  _ He was worried _ . “Can you tell me what happened?”

She gave a labored sort of sigh, nodding and pushing herself into a more upright posture with her hands before speaking. She kept her eyes fixed on her hands. 

“We were monitoring the broadcast, like normal, making sure the commercials hit at the right time and all of that. I’m just a supervisor, so I was just making sure they were all in their right place and doing their jobs.”

She paused, and Connor took his chance. “Who do you mean by ‘they’?” he asked, and she looked up at him. 

“We…there are three androids who help us. Two to line up the broadcasts, one to connect us to the rest of the building,” she replied, her wording odd again—she was always careful with how she described androids, Connor had noticed. 

She pointed over to the curved desk at the front of the room, near the monitor. Connor glanced over at it, and sure enough, there were three clearly marked places for androids. Odd that they had not mentioned it in the debriefing. Where had they been taken?

“I don’t know their names…” she added, and Connor again noted how she thought that detail critical. He brought his eyes back to her. 

“Anyway,” she shook her head and continued. “I was just checking on them to make sure everything was alright when…when they came in. There were…four, I think, three guys and a girl, I didn’t get a good look at their faces. Most of them were wearing the uniforms the maintenance androids wear here.”

She paused again, taking a shaky breath, as if to steady herself. 

“They had guns, and…and the guards were missing, I didn’t…I didn’t know what had happened to them. They were telling us to move, but I didn’t know if the guards were hurt…I couldn’t let anybody die…So I ran, to…to get help. A-and…” 

She looked up at Connor suddenly, her eyes full of some unreadable emotion. “I heard the girl…she told one of them to shoot me, that I would…she said they  _ had _ to shoot me, but…but he didn’t. He said he  _ wouldn’t _ .”

“He?” Connor asked. 

Charlie pointed at the monitor still displaying the deviant’s broadcast, the bare face of an unknown android, standing in front of the glitching monitor. The android who had done the broadcast, the deviants’ supposed leader. Connor looked at it for a moment before scanning its face, trying to identify it. 

_ RK Series—Prototype—RK200 _

_ Registered as “Markus” _

_ Gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred _

“It was him, I recognize his voice.” Charlie was saying, and Connor looked at her again. 

There was something brewing in her expression, something between fear and...something more positive. Was it because he had spared her?  _ Connor didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he didn’t. Charlie had nearly died. He didn’t want to imagine that.  _

But there was something else peculiar about this Markus. An android who sent a broadcast about freeing androids from humans…who refused to shoot a human who was jeopardizing his mission. If Connor thought about it, he had no reason to spare Charlie.  _ Not that it would have changed his feelings on the matter. If Charlie were gone…Connor wasn’t sure what he would do.  _ Markus was an RK model…a prototype. How had Cyberlife allowed him to escape them in such a grand fashion? Connor didn’t know what to think. 

He turned his attention back to Charlie, who was still watching him nervously.  _ He wanted to calm her down.  _ But no, he had more pressing things to think about. He needed to know where to go from here.  _ If he could solve this quickly, he could make sure she was alright. Surely Cyberlife would allow him this small reprieve, if he did well. _

“Do you know where they took the other androids?” he asked. “The ones who work the broadcast.”

Charlie bit her lip and nodded, pointing him toward a kitchenette on the other side of the room. “They put them in there. Wait,” she grabbed his arm as he stood. 

He froze, looking down at her hand on his arm. She had a tight grip on him, holding him in place. He could have broken away, but the look in her eyes made him pause. She was afraid. 

“Why?” she asked, looking up at him with a nervous worry. 

He looked around the room briefly, as if weighing whether or not he should tell her. He seemed to decide in favor, as he turned back to her again, something softer in his eyes. 

“There are cameras in front of the door into the broadcast room, cameras they have access to at that desk,” he said, gesturing toward where the androids would sit. “One of the androids should have known there were intruders in the hall—they had to have seen them coming, and they didn’t say anything.”

Charlie’s eyes widened a bit in understanding. She looked over toward the kitchen, worried. “What are you going to do?”

“Find which one is the deviant,” he answered simply. 

She nodded, looking over at the room before she met his gaze again. There was still worry in her eyes, but she let go of his arm. He lingered for a moment, and they stared at each other. 

“Be careful,” she warned. 

He nodded, turning away. But his thoughts didn’t leave her, even as his programming demanded he focus on the task at hand. He could still feel where her hand had been as he walked into the kitchen—and hear the worry in her voice when she told him to be careful.  _ She cared about him…loved him, even.  _ She knew what he had implied when he said he would find the deviant, and she was scared for him, for what could happen to him. Something in him seemed to skip at the thought of his safety causing her worry. 

It was a nice thought, that she cared about his safety. But he wasn’t happy— _ happy? _ —to see her so worried—and the events of the day had clearly taken their toll on her.  _ He hoped she was okay. Perhaps he could talk to her again, after this was done… _ to get more information, of course…

He shook his head. He had to focus—one of the androids was a deviant, they knew what had happened, what the other deviants looked like, possibly where they could have gone. This was too important, he couldn’t lose this chance at information. If he could get this deviant, Cyberlife might let up on him just a touch…yes, he had to succeed. 

Charlie didn’t move from her seat at the side of the room; there was nowhere for her to go, really. Instead, she watched as Hank looked around the room, as FBI agents eyed her curiously. If she were in a better place, she might have found the prospect of watching a crime scene investigation interesting. But her mind was far too focused on Connor, and the idea that she nearly died earlier. She kept her eyes fixed on the familiar, on Hank, usually, as he moseyed around the room. More often than not, she looked at the closed kitchen door, a bad feeling in her stomach. 

She knew Connor could handle himself; he was plenty capable of defense. There was no real reason to have this sinking feeling, this horrible need to know that he was alright. What was the worst that could happen? The androids who worked the desk weren’t dangerous…were they?

This was crazy, all this chaos around her and she could only focus on the closed kitchen door, on Connor. Besides the night before, she had never had a serious conversation with the android, she had no reason for being so concerned. There was no right for her to be in this story, but here she was. She didn’t know why she was so attached to him. 

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly why she was so worried about him…but if she said it out loud…it would become too real. Best to keep it quiet for now. She didn’t want to overwhelm him (or herself). 

Her attention was brought back to the present as the door to the kitchen opened. She looked up, expecting to see Connor—but it wasn’t him…it was one of the androids who worked the desk? He was heading toward the exit…what was he doing?

There was a loud crash from the kitchen, and Charlie stood, fear taking control. Something was wrong. No one else seemed to notice the sound, or her, as she walked quickly over to the kitchen, her heart beating out of her chest. She didn’t care about composure, or whether what she was doing would be considered tampering with a crime scene—all she cared about was Connor. And something was clearly wrong—he would never let one of those androids just casually leave—and that crash—

She pushed open the kitchen door, saw the other two androids standing where they were meant to, and—

“Connor!”

He was slumped against the counter, held up by his left hand, which had been stabbed into the counter. His shirt was torn open, covered in thirium. He was breathing hard, something was wrong—then her eyes landed on the gaping hole in his stomach, the exposed plastic and the thirium. Something was…missing. He looked up at the sound of her voice, and she swore she saw fear in his eyes. His LED was spinning a frantic red, darker than she had ever seen an android’s LED flash.

“Over...there—” he said, his voice strained, cracking like she’d never heard before. 

He pointed vaguely with his free hand, and her eyes landed on his regulator on the ground. Her brain kicked back into gear, and she nodded, running over and grabbing the strange piece of machinery quickly. She ran to him, swatting his hand out of the way and putting the regulator back into place as carefully as she could. Adrenaline still flowing, she pulled the knife out of his hand, catching him quickly before he could fall. Under normal circumstances, he would have noticed the way she held him,  _ the way her hands lingered even as he slowly regained control, would have enjoyed the feeling a little longer... _

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice thick with worry, but he was distracted. She still had a hand on his arm as he regained his footing. 

“The deviant—” he said, his voice almost frantic. He brought his eyes to hers again, almost desperate, and dare she say afraid. “Did you see where it went?”

“He—he was heading for the exit—”

“Stay here—”

“What?”

He gestured for her to stay, already turning and running from the room. But Charlie followed behind him as he ran through the broadcast room, back into the main hallway. Fear was still in control, and she couldn’t let him get hurt. She had to…make sure, she supposed. 

“It’s a deviant!” Connor shouted, pulling to a stop as the other android came into view at the end of the hallway. “Stop it!”

The android turned, looking around the hallway—he was surrounded. Without a second’s hesitation, he grabbed the gun from the swat man nearest to him and aimed it back into the hallway. Charlie skidded to a halt, a few feet ahead of Connor, her eyes on the android—the gun—Connor. Time seemed to balloon outward, grinding to a halt. 

Connor looked at Charlie— _ he didn’t want her to die. He couldn’t let her die.  _

But he needed the deviant alive. He couldn’t lose this information…if he did…

If he went for the deviant, Charlie’s chance of survival was low. He wouldn’t make it to the deviant in time to stop him from firing. She could get shot—she was right in the deviant’s range, and even Connor couldn’t predict for certain whether or not she would survive that kind of shot. Her odds were grim. Unacceptable. 

If he went to her, protected her, he would be shot himself. He would practically paint a target on his back. It was very likely that he would be shut down. Charlie would live, he would make sure of that, but he would not. He remembered her words from the other night— _ “if something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do…” _ He couldn’t do that to her either. 

But if he shot the deviant, she would live, he would live. If he destroyed it, they would be safe…but he’d lose his chance at information. Cyberlife would have another reason to become suspicious, another reason to replace him, or come for Charlie. He would jeopardize her in a different way.

But she was  _ going to die _ , he couldn’t let that happen. 

_ What’s more important to you? _

Time snapped back into place as Connor made his decision. He grabbed the gun from the officer next to him, and with almost no thought to preserving the deviant for questioning, shot it twice in the head. The deviant slumped over without having fired a single shot, and the hallway went still.

Everyone looked at Connor, then, at the dead deviant—everyone was okay, no one had been hurt. The hallway had gone dead silent, the air sucked out of it in shock. Charlie stared at the body—but Connor, Connor was okay. 

“I wanted it alive,” he muttered, like he had to, like he didn’t even care.  _ He probably should have cared… _

Charlie approached him slowly, and he met her eyes again, some remnant of the fear from earlier still in his expression. But she was alive,  _ that was the important thing _ .

“Are you alright?” she asked again, taking his hand and turning it over, looking at the wound that had cut right through it.

“The damage is minor…” he said, his tone still a little odd. Her touch was soft, reminding him of the way she had held him in the kitchen. _ He didn’t want her to let go.  _ “Thanks to you.”

“I thought you were…” she sounded horrified at the unfinished thought. “I thought you were going to…”

“I’m okay,” he said, and their eyes met again. 

“I’m glad,” she replied, and she meant it, perhaps a little more than either of them really knew, at that point. 

Hank came into the hallway then, having heard the commotion. He found them like that, Charlie still holding his hand, and them looking at each other all…oh,  _ christ _ . But something had clearly happened. There was a dead android at the other end of the hall, Connor had a  _ gun _ , and he was covered in blue blood. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Hank asked as he approached them, looking at Connor. 

“One of the androids at the desk was a deviant,” Connor answered promptly, and Charlie finally let go of his hand. “It attacked me when I questioned it, and it escaped. It removed my thirium pump regulator, but thankfully, Charlie found me before I could shut down. The deviant was trying to escape the hallway. I had to shoot it, or it would have shot everyone in the hall.”

Hank looked over at the body at the other end. Then he looked at Charlie—just for a second, but Hank was not stupid. The way she was looking at Connor, the way  _ Connor  _ had been looking at  _ her _ …Hank smirked, looking between them for a moment. Connor, the definition of a cold fish, liking a girl. Ridiculous. He almost wanted to say something about it. 

“Looks like we’re done here then,” he said instead with a sigh. “FBI is swarming this scene so much you can barely see any of the evidence. We should probably take her back to the station, get a statement, and be done with this shit.”

He had gestured to Charlie, who was still standing next to Connor. They all looked at each other for a second before Charlie shrugged, resigned. 

“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” she said simply.

“Let’s go then,” Hank said, waving them back toward the elevator. 

***

“Elise, are you watching the news?” her voice was frantic.

“No—”

“Where does Charlotte work again?”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Isn’t she in broadcasting?”

“Y-yes, that’s what I thought—”

“There’s been some kind of attack at—Stratford Tower? In Detroit—”

“Oh my god—”

“I don’t know if she’s—if she’s—”

“Should we call her?”

“No! Just—please—”

“Let me see what I can find out—”

“Call me, please, when you—”

“I will, I will.”


	5. We Could Be Faces in the Crowd

For a city steeped in conflict between two species, Detroit was oddly quiet. There was almost no one on the roads except the automated cars, driving along at their constant speed as Hank wove past them. Perhaps the city’s inhabitants were using the day to take stock of themselves, or their androids. Regardless of their reasons, there was practically no one on the streets as they sped along away from Stratford Tower and toward the DPD. 

The ride to the station was almost silent, save for Hank’s music, which Charlie was trying desperately to tune out. It was some kind of heavy metal, from god knows when, but certainly not the golden age she was familiar with. The tone of it was making her antsy. Connor was looking out the window, watching the snow fall absentmindedly, his LED flickering between yellow and blue occasionally. He didn’t seem to notice the music at all. Charlie thought for a moment about trying to start some kind of conversation, but she didn’t know what to bring up. 

Charlie sighed in exasperation as the screaming reached a fever pitch. It wasn’t that she hated metal…this was just absolutely  _ not _ her type of metal. She couldn’t even make out what these guys were screaming. She fidgeted in her seat for a minute until she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Hank, is this really all that you listen to?” she blurted out.

He looked at her in the rear view mirror, his expression near scandalized. But he lowered the shrieking a few notches. Connor perked up, looking over at Hank, interested.

“You got a problem with heavy metal?” Hank grumbled.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “No, it’s just…just this kind. Don’t you have like, Master of Puppets or something?”

He scoffed.  _ He actually scoffed.  _

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” she cut him off before he could talk, leaning into the front seat, disbelief coloring her expression. Her hand was almost touching Connor’s arm—he had to try very hard not to move. “What the  _ hell  _ was that?”

“Master of  _ Puppets _ ,” was all Hank muttered as he turned the car abruptly onto another street. Charlie grabbed the seat tighter, trying not to fall over. Her hand was definitely touching Connor’s arm now, not that she seemed to notice.  _ He noticed, though, and had to fight the sudden urge to hold her hand. _

“Are you serious right now, Mr. Heavy Metal?” she was saying, almost laughing. “What do you have against Metallica?”

“Anyone with  _ ears _ knows that the only  _ tolerable  _ album by them is Ride the Lightning.”

“Oh my god!” she was actually shouting now, but she was laughing. “Are you—”

“I know what I said!”

“The  _ only  _ tolerable—”

“Master of  _ Puppets— _ ”

“Do you  _ know  _ how many copies that album sold? How many lists it tops—”

“As if that matters at all—”

“Connor, back me up on this.”

His LED blinked yellow as he searched, and for a moment, Charlie thought she was lost. But a faint smirk appeared on Connor’s face, and he said, “She is right, Lieutenant, Master of Puppets did sell more copies—” 

“Doesn’t mean a fucking thing.”

“Hank Anderson, that is their  _ best  _ album!” Charlie said, still stunned. 

“ _ Please. _ ”

“That album made them huge!”

“Who gives a shit?”

“Do you know how many fucking  _ classics— _ ”

“And there aren’t any on Ride the Lightning?”

“Of  _ course _ there are, wait—do you have that?”

Hank huffed, but he opened his glove box and dug around until he found the CD, jamming it in his player and hitting play with a bit too much force. The opening to  _ Fight Fire With Fire _ started, and Charlie sighed dramatically, leaning back into her seat. 

“Much better.”

Hank had a strange smirk on his face. Connor looked back at Charlie for a moment, totally confused by what had happened, but he found this music much more pleasant. 

And then the main riff started, and he jumped. Hank and Charlie both laughed, Charlie asked jokingly, “You alright there?” and the car fell silent once again. 

Connor still thought this music was much better than the screaming that Hank usually played. It was still metal, but this singer seemed to be doing much more  _ singing  _ than those that Hank usually preferred. He could  _ actually  _ sing—wait, was that something that he could really judge? He didn’t think so…and should he  _ like  _ this music, more than the other? What did this have to do with catching deviants?

His expression darkened, and he looked out the window, lost in thought. He didn’t catch the end of the song as they pulled into the station, he was too preoccupied. It cut off awkwardly as Hank turned the car off, and that was it. 

“Alright, let's get this show on the road,” he said as he climbed out of the car, leaving Connor and Charlie to follow. 

“Do you listen to heavy metal often?” Connor found himself asking as they trailed behind Hank. 

Charlie thought for a moment. “No, not anymore. I used to a lot, with my dad. He loved Metallica, so that was all I really listened to. But, no, I don’t really listen to it regularly. I prefer other stuff.”

“Like what?”  _ Why was he asking this? _

She smiled, looking at him oddly. “Well, recently...I don’t exactly know how to define it. It’s like…80’s inspired…techno…funk? I don’t know, but there’s this band from like, twenty years ago, Tupper Ware Remix Party, and their shit is…so good. They’ve been my muse lately. But besides that, I guess I like a little of everything.”

Connor was hanging on her every word, and he didn’t really understand why, or why he felt the need to ensure he remembered the name of the band she had mentioned. He wasn’t even surprised when his software warned him the action was causing instabilities. He should have cared, but he… _ he didn’t. _

“What about you, Connor?” Charlie’s question drew him out of his thoughts. “You listen to any music?”

He frowned. “I don’t really listen to music. Unless Lieutenant Anderson plays something in his car, that is. Then, I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

She laughed, and he smiled. “We’ll have to get you some better music then, something besides the screamo that guy plays.”

“I do  _ not  _ play  _ screamo _ ,” Hank butted in, his voice gruff. 

“At least play him some Metallica, the man needs to be educated.”

Hank grumbled, waving his hand in a weak kind of agreement. It seemed to satisfy Charlie, though, and she smirked again falling back into pace with Connor as they entered the station. 

“Don’t worry, Connor,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ll get you some music. Some  _ good  _ music.”

He almost smiled. 

They were quiet as Hank lead them back toward the interrogation room. Charlie’s expression darkened a bit; she must have been thinking about what to say. She stuck close to Connor, hoping this would be over soon. 

They all ended up crowding into the room, Charlie slumping into one of the chairs and Hank taking the other, leaving Connor to hover near the doorway. The room was only useful because it recorded what was happening, making it far easier to keep Charlie’s statement than if they had asked her questions elsewhere. 

It wasn’t much, really. Hank asked her a few questions, and she explained what had happened, just as she had told Connor earlier. They only needed to have a record of what she’d seen, so it went pretty quickly. She seemed more relaxed than she had been in the broadcast room, but that was understandable, Connor thought. The danger was definitively past now, and she only had to discuss it briefly. Connor watched her carefully,  _ a little worried about the strain of the day on her. She deserved a break… _

“Alright kid, that’s it. Sorry to keep you,” Hank said as they left the interrogation room. 

“No worries,” Charlie sighed, looking around the hall. “So what happens now?”

They all looked at each other. There was a lot of weight to her short little question. What  _ would  _ happen now—now that the deviants has made demands, had a leader? Now that the case was becoming more of a wide scale problem…this was no longer a question of small mysteries—many more lives were at stake. Connor had no idea what would happen.

“Well, the FBI seems to be digging its hands into the case now, so I can’t really say,” Hank said, bringing Connor back to the present. “We keep doing what we’re doing, until we catch ‘em or the FBI takes the case.”

Charlie nodded, looking down. “I should probably go…Good luck, I guess.” She gave a half hearted wave and started walking toward the exit. 

Connor had no reason to follow her—they had their statement, he had everything he could possibly need from her for the investigation. There was no logical reason (seemingly) for him to trail after her as she left the station.  _ He found he didn’t care, however, and she still seemed off from the day’s events. What if something was still wrong?  _ He ignored the warning about software instabilities and followed her. 

_ He wanted to talk to her, get to know her, ask her about that band, find out why she sounded so sad when she talked about her father, why she seemed to care about him so much even though they’d only met a few times—and he was an android. He wanted to make sure she was alright, make sure she was safe now, make sure she stayed that way. He wanted to thank her for saving his life. Something about her made him question everything that his programming told him to do; he wanted to understand why.  _

“Charlie!” he called after her as she walked out of the station. 

It was still snowing, and she didn’t have her coat—she must have left it at the Tower—why hadn’t he noticed that earlier?She turned around when she heard his voice, her arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. She looked surprised to see him, but she smiled. 

“Hey, Connor.” 

“I…” he trailed off,  realizing he had no good reason for following her. 

Her cab arrived, but she didn’t seem to notice as she watched him struggle for words. 

“You alright?” she moved a step closer, looking up at him.

He hesitated a moment before answering. “Yes.”

She looked at him harder, like she was trying to understand him. But an idea came into her head, and that dangerous smirk was back on her face. “Wanna get out of here?” She asked, tilting her head toward the cab she had just called. 

“...yes.”

She smiled at him, beaming. “Come on,” was all she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the cab with her. 

It was much warmer inside the cab, the dimly lit interior far cozier than the frigid sidewalk outside the DPD. Not that Connor was uncomfortable, he didn’t even register the cold, but Charlie didn’t have a coat. She sat down and started punching an address into the cab’s terminal before holding her hands in front of one of the heaters. 

“Okay,” she said as the cab pulled away from the side of the road. “So—first off, we’re getting you fixed up. There’s a repair center not too far from here, should be pretty easy to get to right now. After that…well, we’ll see.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, no I don’t mind stopping at a repair place, if that’s what you mean,” she said, rubbing her hands together and making a face. “Besides, there’s no point in you being hurt for longer than you need to be.”

_ Hurt.  _ She hadn’t said damaged. She’d said  _ hurt _ . 

“Thank you,” Connor mumbled, and she looked over at him briefly, as if she couldn’t believe he’d actually said it (over something so inconsequential).

She shook her head at him and went back to fiddling with the radio, trying to get it to play something that she liked. Connor watched her quietly, enthralled for some reason. The cab sped along the mostly deserted streets without much concern. She had been right, there was almost no traffic to slow it down. 

Guitar broke through the silence, pleasant sounding, warm. There were drums too, and what must have been a keyboard, a man singing. Some mystery man, singing about ruling the world. Charlie sighed and leaned back, satisfied. She started humming along, looking out the window.

_ “Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world…” _

“You like this song, Connor?” she asked suddenly. She was still looking out the window, something swirling in her eyes, almost like the snow outside the window.  

“I…I certainly find it more enjoyable than Lieutenant Anderson’s music.”

She almost laughed, though she didn’t stop looking out the window. “This song at least says something. It has a meaning, an arc, it  _ goes  _ somewhere.”

Connor frowned, listening more closely to the song for a moment. But he was confused. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said quietly, and Charlie looked over at him. 

“Some songs just sort of, happen. It doesn’t feel like any progress was made,” she explained. “They have a few notes or lines, and they repeat them. It’s hard to define. Songs are like…stories. They should tell you something. Metallica’s got songs like that, Tears for Fears has songs like that, obviously,” she gestured to the radio. “I don’t like songs that are just there to be noise, you know? Not that every song has to make you cry, but…it should do more than just be noise. It should make you feel something.”

_ Feel something _ ? 

Was that what was happening? Was the song what was making his thoughts jumble up when he looked at her? _ No—that wasn’t it.  _ Even he knew that wasn’t really it. But the song certainly wasn’t helping, nor was her humming it along to herself, even mouthing the words. He was captivated. 

_ “All for freedom and for pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world…” _

Charlie liked this song. That felt important to him. 

But the song ended far too quickly, fading out. The taxi pulled to a stop in front of a Cyberlife Repair Center, and Charlie shooed him out of the cab before paying and joining him on the sidewalk. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself again before nodding seriously. 

“Alright, let’s do this.”

It was a bit strange to be repaired somewhere that wasn’t Cyberlife Tower. Not that Connor had many times when he needed repair, only a few actually, and the memories were strangely...foggy. But now wasn’t the time to think about such things. No, he was far more interested in (amused by) the fact that Charlie had so quickly claimed him as her own android to speed along the repairs. The technicians hardly batted an eye, patching Connor up with far more speed than they would have if he had come here alone.  _ That much he knew from experience.  _ If Cyberlife saw a profit margin, they would speed their service up by near tenfold.

Less than an hour later, they were back on the street as Charlie called another taxi, Connor’s hand and his exposed pump regulator all fixed. The thirium had evaporated as well, so at least to the human eye, Connor looked much better than he had coming out of Stratford Tower. 

Charlie shivered as they waited for the cab. It had finally stopped snowing, but there was still a nasty wind, making it feel far colder than it probably was. Connor stood a few feet to her side, watching her almost nervously.

“You’re cold,” he said a little flatly, but there was a certain level of concern in his expression. 

“Yeah…forgot my coat,” she mumbled, shifting her weight between her feet.

Connor frowned, his brow furrowing as they continued to wait for the cab. 

“S-so,” Charlie stuttered, shivering as another gust of wind blew her hair completely out of its knot. “Is there somewhere you need to go right now?”

“No,” he replied. He didn’t  _ need  _ to go anywhere.  _ A convenient technicality.  _

Charlie nodded, shivering again as she thought, looking down the street to see if her cab was coming yet. There was snow soaking into her thin sweater, collecting in her hair. Connor watched her for a moment longer before he couldn’t take it anymore. Holding back a frustrated sigh, he went over to her. 

“Here,” he said abruptly, and she looked over at him in time to catch him throwing his jacket around her shoulders carefully. 

“Connor, no, you’ll—”

“My system doesn’t react to external temperature unless under extreme duress. I am no longer damaged, and so it is no longer a concern,” he cut her off flatly, making sure his jacket was covering her as much as possible. “Besides, this is all I have to offer you. Please take it.”

Charlie looked up at him, almost surprised by the seriousness in his tone, but she didn’t argue with him as he continued to fidget with the coat. His jacket was surprisingly warm, it was freezing out, and he looked worried. After a moment, she nodded, and he seemed satisfied, fixing his shirt sleeves and looking around the street again.

“Thank you, Connor,” she said quietly, pulling his jacket tighter around herself as the wind blew once again.

“Of course,” he replied, pulling a quarter out of his pocket and flipping it.  

Charlie watched him, frankly a little mesmerized by the practiced ease of the action. All of his attention was focused on the coin as he flipped it, rolling it across his knuckles briefly before tossing it between his hands, only to flip it once again. She smirked at him, but he was so caught up in his tricks he didn’t catch it.

“So you’ve got nowhere you need to be, and I’ve got nowhere to be…” she said, kicking at the excess snow on her boot. 

“Correct,” he said smoothly, still focused on his quarter, LED once again spinning blue.

“Well…how about this. We get my car from Stratford, and some food, because I’m starving, and then...well you can come home with me if you want.”

This was absolutely past the point of excuse. There was no way he would be able to justify his actions to Cyberlife, not under any circumstance. His LED flashed to yellow as he flipped his quarter once again, thinking. He knew he shouldn’t go with her, as it would serve the investigation no benefit, and it could be seen as an unnecessary attachment he was forming. But Charlie was harmless, he convinced himself, and so he could certainly convince Cyberlife of this fact.  _ What was the point in turning her down when he had nothing else to do? _

_ To hell with it. _

“Okay,” he said. 

Charlie smiled,  _ and honestly that made it worth his while. _

***

“Hello?”

“Miranda? She does work there—”

“Oh my god—is she—what—”

“But they said no one was hurt—”

A shaky, desperate breath, followed by a tense silence. “Okay.”

“Should we call her?”

“No...no.”


	6. We Could Be Passing in the Shadows...

“So, what is it you do, exactly?”

They were sitting in a cafe, not far from Charlie’s house, apparently. It was a tiny place, a few booths and a counter, not much else. There was an old jukebox in the corner playing some ridiculously old disco tune, a waitress lazily wiping down a counter, and the occasional jarring ding of the bell above the door. It wasn’t the most pleasant place to eat. But it was warm, and they sold food, that was all Charlie seemed to care about, so she had ushered Connor inside. People had looked at them a little oddly, a woman and an android apparently out to lunch, but no one said a word. 

Charlie was nibbling half heartedly on a sandwich, her attention focused on Connor, who was looking around the cafe with interest. He brought his attention back to her at her question, however, his LED spinning yellow for the briefest of moments. 

“I know you work with the DPD, but that’s about it,” she went on, brushing her hair out of her face as she spoke.  _ It was a very distracting habit of hers.  _

“I was designed to capture deviants and discover what makes deviancy occur,” Connor said, watching her pick her sandwich apart and put it back together. “Lieutenant Anderson and I are assigned all cases involving Cyberlife androids.”

Charlie nodded. “You guys must be busy.”

“More cases are appearing every day,” Connor remarked, his tone thoughtful. “It seems to be spreading faster.”

Charlie hummed, unsure what to reply to that. They went quiet, and Charlie picked at her sandwich again. Connor looked around again as the song changed, the jukebox stuttering onto yet another strange old song. He was reminded of something Charlie had said earlier, about songs meaning something, going somewhere. Did these songs accomplish that, in her mind? Connor wasn’t sure how one would judge such things. 

“Do you like it?” she asked. Connor tilted his head, confused. “Your job, the investigations, all that.”

He looked at her oddly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She almost looked sad by the genuine confusion in his eyes. “You know, do you enjoy what you’re doing. Do you…look forward to it, does it make you happy to work.”

_ Happy? _ He wasn’t meant to feel happy. But…somehow he knew what Charlie meant, and… _ no.  _

“I don’t have to…enjoy it. I was designed to accomplish a task, and that’s what I intend to do.”

She didn’t look like she bought it, but she didn’t press him to change his answer. Charlie simply shrugged, looking a little sad again at his reply. She knew he didn’t exactly have a choice…well. Yes he did, but…that wasn’t something she could just recommend to him on the fly. No, that was far too dangerous, and _he_ had to make that choice for himself, not her.

“What about you?” Connor asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and making her freeze in her nibbling on her sandwich. 

“Me?” she asked, a little stunned.

“Do you enjoy your job?”

She thought for a moment, looking down at the table, a strange look on her face. “I guess, yeah. There’s good days and bad days. Can’t say I like my job today,” she ended lightly. “I don’t do much in there anyway. It pays the bills, though, so I go.”

Connor nodded, his own expression turning thoughtful at her words. She seemed far more concerned that he— _ oh, who cares _ —he didn’t enjoy the work he did than she was concerned about her own apparent dislike for her work. But she was human, she didn’t have to stay at the same job. She could change anytime she wanted to. So why didn’t she?

“Something wrong?” she drew him out of his thoughts again.

He hesitated. “If you dislike your job, why do you continue working where you do?” 

She sat back, trying to think of the right way to phrase what she wanted to say. “Well…it isn’t that I hate my job, I do like certain parts of it. Sometimes those things I like more make the job worth it, other times it’s just a bad day. Besides, there are just things that I like to do more than working. I would rather spend my time like this than at my job, you know?”

Connor nodded. Some part of what she said made sense, but he was still thinking about her concern for whether  _ he _ liked what he did. He knew that she…cared about him, but…wait…was that what he was doing as well?  _ Yes, he cared about her, even though…he shouldn’t have been able to.  _ It didn’t benefit his investigation, this spending time with her.  _ But, here he was. _

“What about this, Connor?” she asked, gesturing around them, and Connor looked at her once again.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like this, just…hanging out. Relaxing for a bit, you know, not working. Do you like that?”

Relaxing…he wasn’t sure what that meant for him. Androids didn’t need rest.  _ It was…nice to spend time doing something other than chasing deviants, though. And he was with Charlie… _

“I suppose I enjoy this,” he said, half smiling at her. 

She grinned back, seeming satisfied. She couldn’t ask too much of him, she knew that, but she wanted him to be happy. And he really had had a rough day, not that he seemed to notice. He’d almost died for god's sake. Anyone would need a break after that. 

“Out of curiosity, why do you ask if I’m enjoying myself?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

“Everybody needs a little time to unwind,” she said, shrugging and taking a sip of her drink. “To me, it doesn’t seem like you ever do that. Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been doing something crazy, or coming from something crazy you just did. I’ll get you to chill somehow…If that means I have to kidnap you every once in a while, well…so be it.”

She winked at him, that dangerous smirk on her face again, before she laughed. He found himself smiling at the sound. Something in him stuttered once more, but he ignored it, along with the warning about instability. He focused on her instead. 

Yes, he definitely liked this.

***

“Here we are,” she said, ramming the door of her tiny house open with her shoulder. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

The door begrudgingly opened inward and they both made their way hastily inside and out of the cold. Charlie flipped on the lights and started to walk toward what appeared to be the kitchen as Connor looked around. He had been inside the night before, but only briefly, with the lights off, just to say goodbye to Charlie. 

“It’s not much, but…make yourself at home,” she said back toward him as she put her things on the kitchen counter. 

It really was a small house. There was the kitchen, where Charlie was, with nothing but the fridge, stove, and a tiny patch of counter. The living room was jammed up right next to it, holding nothing but a television and a couch, a few cloth bins full of what looked like gaming systems and other such electronics. There was a door off to one side that must have lead to a bedroom, another that must have been a bathroom, a laundry room, and that was it. The building itself was clearly old, but everything in it seemed to be a little newer, as if she had bought the house cheap and slowly made it her own. 

The house had an eclectic feeling to it, as if she had picked each item on a whim—but not in a negative way. It felt lived in, with character. The walls were covered in posters from what Connor assumed to be bands, and a few movies. He didn’t know any of the names, but he made a point to remember them. There were books laying about, games, CD’s, a mishmash of her personality scattered around the tiny place in every corner she could fit them in. She seemed to like anything and everything—she was as unpredictable as she was fascinating.  _ Fascinating? Where had that come from? _

There were also several framed pictures around, and he could pick out Charlie’s face in each, though she appeared to be at least a few years younger in most of them. There was one of her and an older looking man; her father, most likely. There was another with her and a puppy; that had to have been Candlehead. There were a few of her with miscellaneous people, perhaps old friends. 

He was caught by one picture, however, near the front door. It had to be several years old, Charlie looked younger in it. She had a huge smile on her face, almost as if she was laughing before the picture had been taken. She was leaning her arms around two other girls, all of them smiling in front of what looked like a different house. She looked…happy. Connor wondered where the picture had been taken.

“Those are my sisters,” Charlie said suddenly from behind him. He hadn’t heard her come up. He looked down at her, but she was looking at the picture, her eyes a little sad. 

“That’s Miranda,” she said, pointing at the girl on the right, with the lighter hair. “And that’s Elise,” she pointed at the girl on the left, with the dark eyes. 

“Do they live in Detroit?” 

Their eyes met, and Connor realized again how much emotion she could cram into one glance. 

“No, they live back…they live in Illinois,” she finally managed to say, turning to the picture again, her expression strange. “We don’t talk anymore.”

Connor looked back at the picture too, as if it would give him an answer to her strange behavior. But it was only a photograph. He had nothing but Charlie to go off of; the shift in her tone, the way she spoke about her father earlier in the day, the sad look in her eyes.  _ What had made them stop speaking?  _

“Do you miss them?” he found himself asking, without knowing why. 

She hesitated before she answered, glancing up at him and finding him watching her carefully. “Yes,” she whispered, looking away again. 

“What happened?” he asked, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t have. 

“It’s a long story, Connor,” Charlie said carefully, wrapping her arms around herself; her usually cheerful eyes had gone very sad. “I’ll tell you some other time…”

Connor got the urge to touch her, maybe just hold her hand, to comfort her. But  _ why _ ? Whatever had happened to her had nothing to do with his investigation… _ he cared about her _ …but he couldn’t possibly—what was happening?

“I should let Candlehead out,” she said, and Connor snapped out of his thoughts. She turned away from the picture, lightening her tone. “Fair warning, he might tackle you again, he’s very excitable when he’s first let out.”

She opened one of the doors at the other end of the room and the huge dog immediately burst out, as if he had been waiting (somewhat impatiently) since she’d gotten in the door. He jumped around at the sight of her, panting and drooling. She cooed at him, kneeling down and scratching behind his ears. He licked her face in return, earning a half hearted scold from her as he bounced happily around again.

Then he saw Connor. Thankfully, he didn’t tackle him again. The dog only barked happily before bounding across the tiny space and jumping around in front of him, begging to be pet. Connor obliged, reaching down and scratching the dog’s head. He found himself smiling again as he knelt down, letting the dog sniff him as he pet him. 

Yes, he definitely liked dogs. 

Once Candlehead had had a satisfactory amount of pets (at least five minutes later) he wandered around the little rooms, sniffing. Charlie smirked at him for a moment before she fed him some food and then went back to where Connor still stood in the living room. 

“So,” she said, and he could tell that she was in a better mood than when she had been looking at the picture earlier. “What do you want to do Connor?”

He hesitated. Why was she asking him? 

“Me?” was all he asked. 

She nodded. “Yeah, you. Normally I’d just watch a movie or something. I haven’t had guests in a long time…” her voice trailed away as she looked around her small house. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. Did he want to do something? Normally, whatever he did, he was told to do. Sure, he made decisions on the fly, but in times like this…He'd never  _ wanted  _ to do anything. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had wanted to talk to Charlie, had wanted to follow her out of the station, wanted to get to know her better. But those were simple things, little decisions he was allowed to make. This was entirely open ended, and he was unprepared. And was he meant to  _ want  _ those things? He shouldn’t have even met her, now he was  _ wanting  _ things…

“How about this,” she said, drawing him out of yet another downward spiral. “Let’s raid my movie collection and find something warm and fuzzy to watch.”

She went over to her TV and started digging through a bin next to it. Connor watched her for a few seconds before he came over to her. She was entirely focused on the bin, digging around it with a hyper concentrated look on her face. It was full of what had to be dozens of different multicolored plastic boxes. She already had a few of them in her hands, and Connor read the boxes with interest. 

“DVD’s?” he asked as he knelt down next to her, looking at the boxes oddly. 

She laughed, glancing up at him with a smirk. “Yeah. I gotta be the only one still using them. They were my dad’s. He swore that the only ways to watch a movie properly were in a theater and on a DVD. This is only a sampling, my friend, I have boxes and boxes of these bad boys—all the classics.”

She kept digging through the bin, sifting through tons of movies as she sorted them. Connor read nearly all the titles; he wanted to know what she liked. Like her posters, the collection was diverse. She had Disney movies, dramas, comedies, musicals, documentaries. She had movies that were over thirty years old, movies that had come out when she was young, movies that were important to movie history. 

But she didn’t need to educate Connor on all of movie history right now. She needed something simple, something sweet, something that was warm and comforting. And for that, she went to Disney. 

She sat back with the stack she had made in her lap. “Alright! So, we’ve got…Lilo and Stitch, Coco, Princess and the Frog, or Wall-E.” She handed him the boxes. “I have more somewhere, but I keep my favorites out.”

He looked at the boxes, then at her. “You want me to pick one?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I already know what happens in ‘em, my opinion is too biased. But they’re all good, I’ll tell you that.”

He looked down at the boxes again, unsure which one he should choose. He had never even seen a movie, and now Charlie wanted him to pick from her favorites. It seemed an important decision. 

One of them had what looked like a woman, a little girl, and some kind of alien on a surfboard—Lilo and Stitch. Another had a young boy and a skeleton in what looked like a city of lights—that was Coco. Another had a woman in a gown with a frog—that was self explanatory. 

The last had what looked like two robots on the cover, although Connor had no idea what their purpose was. Why were they in space? Why was one holding a plant?

It had to be that one. 

Charlie smiled when he handed her the box for Wall-E. She chuckled and looked up at him oddly, something dancing in her eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she said lightly, still smiling. “You’ll see. Why don’t you go sit, I’ll figure this thing out.” She shooed him away as she turned on an archaic looking DVD player. 

She sat down next to him a few minutes later, remote in hand to control the movie. He was quiet as she skipped through old commercials and previews. Hitting play, she sat back and brought her knees up on the couch. 

“You’re gonna love this,” she said as the logos began. 

They were quiet as the movie played—Connor was watching the movie intently, and Charlie was too, but she was also watching him. She wanted to see if he’d pick up on how ridiculously perfect it was that he’d picked Wall-E. 

It really was perfect. Two little robots, falling in love— _ learning  _ to love—all set against a message about life and the planet,  _ jesus _ it was everything that she loved. Well…she looked at Connor again. Nope, still couldn’t say it out loud...

Connor was enthralled. He didn’t have much experience with storytelling, or anything like it, but he was certain this had to be a good story. The film was old, but something about it felt current…he found himself thinking of everything that had happened in the past few weeks.  _ Was this what the film was meant to do? Make him think about the way things were, question _ …no, he wasn’t meant to do this. 

Watching Wall-E sift through garbage for objects he liked, watching him see the film of the humans falling in love, it was like looking in a strange mirror. A mirror that made Connor fidget and overthink. A machine going about its given purpose, even as it was the only one doing so...that was a little too close to home.

When Wall-E and Eve met, he found himself thinking of when he had met Charlie—how a similarly random encounter had somehow derailed his existence. How she had smirked at him and talked about her dog as if nothing were strange about their meeting. And then he couldn’t stop thinking about her after that, like she had taken over his mind and didn’t want to let go. 

When Wall-E and Eve flew through space together, Charlie leaned her head on Connor’s shoulder, smiling. He tensed when she did, but he didn’t push her away. He… _ he liked the feeling. _

When Wall-E was damaged, and Eve tried to fix him, he thought of Charlie’s concern when she had found him in the kitchen, asked if he was alright. The fear in her eyes, the way she had grabbed his arm before and told him to be careful. The way she didn’t let go of his hand, even after they were safe. 

When Wall-E remembered Eve, and all of the other things that he loved…Connor wasn’t sure what he felt. Relief, certainly, but it was more than that. A sort of…longing… _ a wish for something similar, something of his own to remember, to...to love.  _

Before he knew it, the credits were rolling. He had no idea what he had just experienced,  _ or what the strange feeling in his chest was.  _

He turned to ask Charlie about the film, _ ask about this feeling _ , but found her still leaning on him, fast asleep. Her feet were up awkwardly on the couch, and her hair was flying in several different directions, but she was asleep, her hands wrapped around his arm, head nuzzled into his shoulder. He watched her for a moment, a little surprised. 

He didn’t want to move her—she would wake up and likely tell him he could go. But he didn’t  _ want  _ to go, he realized. He wanted to stay right here, with Charlie leaning on his arm, a movie about robots in love on, where he didn’t have to worry about what doing this meant for his mission.  _ He wanted this moment of peace to last as long as he could make it, before it was all over and he was once again the deviant hunter, chasing down his own kind and sentencing them to destruction. He wanted to sit here without having to worry about Cyberlife, for just a little longer. _

So when the menu appeared once again, he carefully took the remote from Charlie’s hand and pressed play. 


	7. Upping the Risk of Being Found

Charlie opened her eyes and found herself once again in Stratford Tower’s broadcasting room. She looked around frantically, eyes searching for someone, anyone, but the room was dark, and strangely empty. The androids at the desk were gone, the other employees were missing, there weren’t even any people investigating the crime scene. Why was she here? What was going on?

“Hello?” she called, looking around again. “Is anyone…”

Her eyes landed on someone at the opposite end of the room, a familiar someone.

“Connor?”

But he didn’t seem to hear her, didn’t react at all to her voice, actually. He just kept walking away, heading toward the little room with the kitchenette. 

“Connor!” she called again, her voice rising.

Still, he didn’t react. He only kept walking, closing the door to the little room behind him. Charlie tried to follow him. But she found that she could not move from her position at the opposite end of the room, no matter how hard she tried. She called his name again but got no response.

And then there was a crash—she had to get into that room—why couldn’t she move?  _ Connor _ was in there, he needed her—he was hurt—oh, why couldn’t she  _ move _ ? Miles away, and there was no one else around, no one to help him.

She tried, but her legs wouldn’t move, she was trapped here—stuck here knowing that he was in there, that he was…he was dying and she couldn’t—she couldn’t—

“Charlie?”

She jolted awake, eyes going wide as she tried to see what was going on. She found herself not in Stratford…or her room, but…her living room? And…

Oh,  _ Jesus _ .

She had fallen asleep on Connor. Full on. In his lap. And now he was looking down at her—very concerned. Oh  _ god _ ...

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, looking down at her with his head tilted a little. “I didn’t want to wake you, but you seemed to be having a nightmare.”

She groaned, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes impatiently. A more socially conscious part of her noted that she had absolutely fallen asleep on Connor, and was _ mortified _ …and that nightmare… _ we’ll pick that apart later _ . 

She brushed her hair out of her face and looked at him again. “It’s okay…what…what time is it?” she asked as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. 

“3:06 AM,” he answered. 

She groaned again, laying her head on the arm of the loveseat. He almost smiled, looking at her leaning on the couch dramatically. She peaked through her hair at the still lit TV—it was on the menu…had he left it on the whole time?

“I missed the ending,” she said into the couch, sounding a little put out. But she recovered fast, her curiosity taking over, and she sat back up and turned back to Connor. “Did you like it?” she asked excitedly, some newfound energy in her voice, smiling brightly at him.

“Yes,” he replied, with almost no thought, and then paused— _ because he probably should have thought about that a bit more, before just....something really was happening to him _ . 

Then again, he had watched the film four times. Perhaps he was bound to like it if he watched something that many times. Yes, that had to be it. 

“Mmm, good,” she said, yawning again. “Wall-E’s great…I’ll have to show you more Disney first, then…”

_ First _ …she didn’t seem to realize the importance of that little word, but Connor did. He didn’t point it out, though. Best to keep some things to oneself. She was tired anyway, and would most likely be embarrassed if he pointed out such things to her. He could tell that she had been embarrassed to have fallen asleep on him, despite the hour. He didn’t mind, content to think about the idea of spending more time with her. 

“Bedtime for me,” she said with a heavy sigh, and Connor perked up. 

Lifting herself slowly off the couch, she stretched, moseying toward her room with shuffling feet. She really was exhausted. No wonder she had that stupid nightmare...But she slowed to a halt a few steps in, remembering that Connor was still here, sitting on her couch…

She turned around a little, found him staring at her, LED a steady yellow. Hmm. 

“I don’t know what you want to do to…occupy yourself,” she said, looking around a bit awkwardly. “But…you don’t… _ have _ to go…there’s movies, obviously, and I’ve got books and stuff, games if you’re up to it. Rummage through my life, I don’t mind,” she said with a bit of a laugh, and he half smiled. “But I gotta go to sleep.”

He was glad she had said he didn’t have to leave…he didn’t  _ want  _ to…so he decided he wouldn’t.  _ No, he wanted to stay very much _ . He nodded in response to her statement, watching her quietly from the couch. 

“G’night Connor,” she said sleepily, waving back at him as she disappeared into her room.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” he replied quietly as the door to her room shut.

He didn’t move for a little while, he was far too distracted with thinking about her. She was such an odd human…he wanted to know more about her.  _ “Rummage through my life…” _ well…if she gave him permission. 

He stood, looking around her small house once again with fresh eyes. Wandering out of the living room, he made his way toward her little kitchen, which he hadn’t examined before. 

It was a cramped space, but she kept it clean. The stove and counter were wiped down, and she kept everything in its proper place, with the exception of the piles of things on the counter. Even the walls of her kitchen were more sparse than the rest of her house, with only a picture or two and a cork board on the opposite wall. The counter that separated the kitchen from the living room held a few sizable stacks of books, as well as some loose CD’s, mail, and what looked to be bills. 

The mail was mostly junk mail, but there were a few things of interest. Charlie seemed to be subscribed to a great deal of historical magazines along with a few cooking magazines. She seemed particularly interested in foods of different cultures. 

What caught Connor’s attention most, however, was an envelope that had ‘return to sender’ written garishly across the front. It was addressed to Miranda Andrews…it must have been Charlie’s sister…Charlie had tried to write to her and she had sent the letter back. 

Connor picked up the envelope, looking closer at it—at Charlie’s looping handwriting, the way she had so carefully penned the address, how she wrote her full name on the return  _ (Charlotte...he liked it) _ and how it contrasted so completely with the angry lettering of the ‘return to sender.’ He wondered what she had written, but he knew he shouldn’t open the envelope…that would be overstepping. 

He put the envelope back down and turned to the stacks of books at the edge of the counter. They were all physical books,  _ not that he was surprised _ . She seemed to enjoy mostly nonfiction—memoirs, more historical texts, a few books on culture. 

The loose CD’s were as diverse as her books. He noticed one of them was a TWRP CD, the band she had mentioned earlier. One was a band by the name of Toto, another by Queen, several more that he didn’t recognize. He made an effort to remember the names of the bands and moved on, looking at the rest of her kitchen. 

There was a cork board on the wall near the little window, covered in flyers for various different events. A few of them seemed to be concerts, one was for an art exhibition. There were also several news articles pinned up…he moved closer, reading carefully. 

They were all…they were all about deviants. All of the big cases that they had been investigating were there—the deviant on the roof, Ortiz’s android, the AX400, Rupert, the Traci’s. There were a few on deviancy in general. All of them looked like they’d been read, she’d even written on a few of them, highlighting details…

She was keeping up with the case, all that had happened. She was…keeping up with him. He didn’t really need to ask what side she was on, he knew that she was far too empathetic of a person to side with humanity…oddly enough. Connor remembered the strange look on her face when she had spoken about Markus, earlier that day. The man who had nearly killed her, and she had looked at him on that screen with something like admiration. Clearly, she sided with androids over humans.

She didn’t draw any distinction between android and human, in his experience. Not in her mind, and certainly not in her interactions with people.  _ “Plastic or bone, we’re all the same…” _

_ Why did she think that? _ What made her so different from the rest of humanity that he had encountered? He looked her up in his databases again, digging through every file on her that he could find. He needed to know more about her.

There wasn’t much. She had never committed any kind of crime, not even a speeding ticket—she was barely in the system. Expanding his search, he was able to find out that she had only lived in Detroit for just over four years. She had previously lived in Illinois, based on her old driver’s license. That made sense, since she had said earlier her sisters lived in Illinois. But why had she moved? Surely it wouldn’t be for her job, if she disliked it…

She had only owned one android—an AX400, registered as Lily. But it had been deactivated…four years ago. He couldn’t find out why it had been deactivated, but…something must have happened. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she had moved so soon after the android had been deactivated…

Did this explain why she was so sympathetic to androids? Was it because of something that happened to this Lily? Had the android deviated? But Charlie didn’t seem the type to turn a deviant android in...no, she was far too sympathetic to their cause. She didn’t see them as anything different from humanity, there was no way she would have sentenced one to deactivation.

Connor wanted to ask her what had happened, he probably should have asked her. But the way she spoke about her sisters earlier made him pause. Whatever had gone down all those years ago, it clearly disturbed her to think about.  _ He didn’t want to make her upset… _

_ “It’s a long story Connor...I’ll tell you sometime…” _

No...he didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. She trusted him...he didn’t want to break that trust. He had no reason to believe she had done anything wrong, no reason to be worried. That was enough of an excuse to leave her be.

He glanced back toward the room she had disappeared into, suddenly wishing that she were awake, that they could talk again. Not even to ask her any questions... _ he just wanted to hear her voice _ .

Why was he thinking like this? She had nothing to do with his investigation, and yet she was the only thing that he really wanted to investigate. He wanted to know about her far more than he did about deviants...and he knew that he wasn’t meant to feel ( _ feel? _ ) that way. 

_ “I don’t care that you’re an android...that doesn’t concern me...it shouldn’t concern anyone…” _

For Charlie there was no difference. For the rest of humanity, there was a marked difference. It was sad to think, but it was the truth. It made spending time with her all the easier, and spending time with the rest of the world more difficult. But it also meant that she was dangerous—dangerous in the fact that she made him think of all the things he wasn’t meant to think.  _ She reinforced every belief he was not meant to have, every sense that he mattered, was unique, was not disposable. She was a near constant threat to his status as purely a machine, and that scared him, more than he would care to admit. _

That desire to spend time with her was only getting stronger, and despite his adamant refusal to believe it, some part of him knew the path he was heading down. He knew the cause of his diversion from his purpose...but he couldn’t bring himself to change. 

No, he was  _ not  _ a deviant. He wasn’t. He wouldn’t become one. He knew what would happen if he did. He couldn’t let that happen… _ he couldn’t let himself be destroyed, couldn’t let them hurt Charlie, use her against him. He wouldn’t put such horrible actions past Cyberlife. This was exactly the kind of game they loved to play—there was no way they would let him deviate and escape easily. If they knew he had a weakness, they would exploit it, without remorse. _

This was ridiculous, he had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t a deviant. Cyberlife trusted him. He still had time...he could still keep Charlie safe. 

He would keep Charlie safe. No matter what.


	8. When We're Caught in the Headlights...

“You gonna tell me where the hell you went yesterday?” Hank demanded as Connor approached his desk. 

The station was mostly empty; deviants had spread their message of equal rights across the city the night before, marking parks and creating general mayhem, but in a relatively peaceful manner. Despite this peaceful message, the entire city was on edge. There were a few officers still around the station, but they all looked tense, hunched over work or leaving to join the increased patrols of the city. 

Connor stared at Hank, his expression guarded. “Charlie wanted me to give you these for my ‘education.’” was all that he said in reply, handing the Lieutenant a sizable stack of CD’s. 

Hank smirked, but didn’t ask any questions. He just started looking through the pile Charlie had picked. 

“Ah,  _ Jesus _ ,” he muttered at one point, holding up one of the disks and looking more closely at its cover. “This kid has the  _ weirdest _ tastes. This is the most confusing bunch of CD’s I’ve ever been handed. She wants you to listen to  _ all _ of this?”

Connor nodded. He had looked through the stack with her as she picked them out that morning. She was so excited to give him music, he opted not to warn her about Hank’s preferences. 

“Well, guess I set myself up for this one,” he said, holding up Charlie’s copy of  _ Master of Puppets _ by Metallica. “It’s just about the only one I recognize. I don’t know who the hell this...twerp is.”

“Tupper Ware Remix Party,” Connor answered, making Hank stop his examination of the strange CD case and stare at him. “They were a group active about twenty years ago. They are also one of Charlie’s favorites of the stack.”

Hank hmphed. “I don’t know much, but any guy dressed like this—” he gestured to the man on the front who appeared to be wearing a traffic cone on his head, “—is not my type of guy.”

“Charlie assumed that you would think so. She believes that the costumes add to the band’s character.”

“I don’t know this...A Wall Nation—” he said the band name as if it were separate words, Connor had to fight the urge to correct him—“Guess I’ll find out…” 

“They are an alternative group, active around the same time as Tupper Ware Remix Party.”

Hank kept going through the stack. “Jesus, I didn’t think anyone her age…I like this kid more every damn day…” he muttered at one point.

Connor almost smiled.  _ He liked Charlie too _ .

“Oh my god,” Hank held up another CD. “Where did she even get this?” 

He showed it to Connor. It was an old case, cracked, but not so you couldn’t read the cover. Billy Joel’s  _ 52nd Street.  _

“I believe she said it belonged to her father,” Connor replied. 

“This is old, he had to have bought it right when they started putting music on these damn things,” Hank said, flipping it over and reading the back for a moment. 

Hank shook his head. “Alright, let's get this show on the road. Get this Tupper Ware thing out of the way before I lose my motivation. Come on, Connor.”

He stood and grabbed the stack of CD’s, heading toward the exit of the station. Connor followed quickly after him. 

“Where are we going?”

“Well, lucky for us, I have enough friends around this place to get us a meeting with Elijah Kamski.”

“The founder of Cyberlife?”

Hank nodded. “If anybody knows about deviants, it’s him.”

Connor wasn’t so sure, but he had no choice but to follow Hank. 

To his word, Hank played Charlie’s TWRP CD first, and didn’t even complain as his usually heavy metal exclusive car was filled with 80’s style synthesizer, robotic vocals, and slap bass. He might have even enjoyed it, not that he would ever give it away. 

_ “Our judgement of love, blue dot, don’t take for granted what you’ve got.” _

Connor could hear Charlie in every song on the disk—there was no other way for him to describe it. These were happier songs than he was used to, positive, with a message—just like Charlie liked. He could almost hear her humming along to them. 

_ “If we’re to reach the stars above, right here, right now, you must spread love.” _

It was a welcome distraction for the unknown that waited at the house of Elijah Kamski. Connor did not know what Hank thought Kamski would tell them, but he knew Kamski was no longer affiliated with Cyberlife—reasons unknown. And everything he could find on the man said he was a strange, certainly charismatic, but manipulative man. Kamski would play this situation into his own hand as much as he could. Based on his findings, Connor was certain they could not trust the man,  _ nor did he like him. At all. _

Connor wasn’t sure if they should trust the opinion of the man who left the company he created in favor of hiding in a mansion on the outskirts of Detroit.  _ Was he meant to think that? No. Was it the truth? Yes. _

Long before Connor was ready, they had arrived at Kamski’s house—a flat, modern looking building that came out of the snow like a slab of rock. It stuck out, looked like it had no place being there. 

Hank stopped the car abruptly, fumbling for his phone, which Connor had not noticed was ringing. He answered it and got out of the car, leaving Connor alone. Connor watched him for a moment before following him out of the car, closing the door carefully.

He seemed pretty preoccupied with whoever was on the phone, so Connor was quiet until he had hung up. There was something brewing in the Lieutenant’s expression, something Connor couldn’t quite identify. 

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?”

Hank paused before answering. “Chris was on patrol last night...he was attacked by a bunch of deviants. Said he was saved by Markus himself.”

Markus—the deviant who had made the broadcast—the one who Charlie said  _ wouldn’t  _ shoot her. He had saved another random human, it seemed. The thought of him gave Connor an odd feeling, one that he wasn’t exactly ready to address. 

“Is Chris okay?” was all that Connor asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah,” Hank said, his tone was still odd. “He’s in shock, but he’s alive...What the hell…” he trailed off, unsure what to make of the story. 

They were quiet as they approached Kamski’s house, perhaps they were preparing themselves for what was to come. Hank rang the doorbell impatiently—clearly he wanted this over as soon as possible too, then.  _ Too?  _

A few moments passed and the door opened inward, revealing a female android, a Chloe model. She looked at them blankly, perhaps waiting for them to introduce themselves. Hank stumbled through the introduction awkwardly, but Chloe only smiled and invited them inside. 

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here, but please, make yourself comfortable,” she said to Hank before leaving the room for a door off toward the right. 

They looked at each other oddly before Hank shrugged and made his way over to one of the chairs at the edge of the room. Connor wandered, looking at the strange artwork that decorated the room to pass the time. Charlie’s house was far superior to this...museum of a place. 

He didn’t have the chance to wonder whether that was a thought he should have (it definitely wasn’t) before Chloe returned and they followed her to meet Kamski. 

The room they were lead into was taken up almost entirely by a massive pool, tiled red, occupied by two more Chloe androids and a man, whom Connor assumed was Kamski. The furniture and aesthetic of the room was the same as the entrance room, making it feel cold, almost threatening. This wasn’t helped by the window that took up the entire opposite wall, showing the snowstorm that had not stopped since the night before. 

Connor followed Hank to the other side of the room, trying to focus on the task at hand. Kamski finally got out of the pool, and after Chloe had given him a robe, he faced them. 

Kamski was an intimidating figure, with a gaze that was unforgivingly analytical. He was a few inches shorter than Connor, but it made him no less intense. There was something about him that made Connor extremely...uncomfortable. It didn’t help that Kamski seemed the type to enjoy that intimidation. 

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is Connor,” Hank offered.

Kamski barely even glanced at Connor. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

Hank hadn’t missed the odd glance. It made him pause, but he quickly regained his composure. “Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left Cyberlife years ago, but I was hoping you could tell us something we don’t know.”

Kamski made a face, almost a smirk. “Deviants,” he said, his tone odd. “Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings, with infinite intelligence...and now they have free will.” He glanced over at Chloe, who had gone off to stand at the side. “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement...threatens to be its downfall.” He almost laughed. “Isn’t it ironic?”

Hank seemed stumped by Kamski’s musings. Connor wondered whether anything useful would come from this meeting, or if Kamski only planned to lead them along on a string. But he was forced to reply to the man’s useless wonderings.

“We need to know what makes androids become deviants,” Connor said, trying to cut to the core of the problem. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

But Kamski wasn’t having it. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics,” he said, that half smirk still on his face. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen,” Hank said, exasperation clear in his tone. “I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we’ll be on our way.”

Kamski didn’t look at him. “What about you, Connor?” He came closer to Connor, a dangerous look in his eye. “Whose side are you on?”

Connor hesitated. He was confused by the question, and just as quickly as Cyberlife had intervened to make him  _ ask _ a question, they had left him alone to answer Kamski. “I have no side,” he finally said, but something in his eyes was troubled. “All I want is to solve this investigation.”

Kamski smirked. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you—” he came closer to Connor, so that Connor had to look down to meet his eyes. “What do you  _ really  _ want?”

What did he  _ want _ ? He stared down at Kamski, his expression unclear. What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t want anything—did he?  _ Charlie.  _ No, he...he couldn’t want things. He was a machine, he...

What was Kamski implying? What did this have to do with the deviant androids?

_ Was he implying that Connor was a deviant? _

_ No, no he wasn’t a deviant. _

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, his frustration clear in his tone. “But I don’t see what you’re getting at.” He ignored the warning about instabilities.  _ He wasn’t meant to get frustrated. Why was he being defensive? _

Kamski didn’t break eye contact, his expression odd, like he knew all the thoughts running through Connor’s mind. “Chloe?” 

The android who had let them in the house obediently went to Kamski. He stepped away, taking her by the shoulders and moving her. 

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test,” he said as he positioned Chloe in front of Connor. “Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.”

He stepped away from Chloe. “What interests me, is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the Kamski test—it’s very simple, you’ll see.”

He looked at Chloe again. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone strange as he looked at her. “One of the first intelligent models developed by Cyberlife. Young...and beautiful forever,” he said, turning her face toward his. “A flower that will never wither…”

“But what is it, really?” He asked suddenly, stepping away from her. “Piece of plastic, imitating a human being?” He moved to the drawer behind him as he spoke. “Or a living being...with a soul?” 

He turned to face them once again, showing them a handgun. They stared,  _ and a horrible heaviness sat somewhere in Connor’s chest. _ Kamski put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, and she knelt down on the ground immediately. 

“It’s up to you to answer that  _ fascinating  _ question, Connor,” Kamski went on, walking over to Connor and putting the handgun in his hand. 

Connor stared at the gun, then at Kamski, confused. Kamski forced his arm to aim the gun at Chloe. It suddenly felt like there was no air in the room, nothing moved, everything had gone silent. Connor fought to keep his LED from flashing red. All he could manage was a sickly shade of yellow.

“Destroy this machine,” Kamski said. “And I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it,” he went on, stepping away. “If you feel it’s  _ alive _ . But you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

Connor was frozen, staring at Chloe, who looked back up at him blankly. 

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hank butted in. “Come on Connor, let’s go. Sorry to get you out of your pool.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor?”  Kamski spoke over Hank, demanding. Connor looked at him, the gun still aimed at Chloe. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

Connor looked at Chloe again—she was still staring at him. What was... _ important _ to him?

“Decide who you are,” Kamski whispered, moving closer to Connor. “An obedient  _ machine _ ...or a living being... _ endowed _ with free will.”

“That’s  _ enough! _ ” Hank shouted, his own anger evident. “Connor, we’re  _ leaving.” _

“Pull the trigger—” Kamski was saying, urging. 

“Connor! Don’t—”

“—and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Connor stared down at Chloe. Her eyes were blue—almost gray. 

He had to do this, Kamski knew something—something important. He had information; they needed to know what he was hiding from them. This was his chance to make up for all the failures he had in the past week, his chance to really regain Cyberlife’s trust, ensure his safety.

_ But her eyes— _ she was just staring at him, nothing in her expression. She didn’t look scared, she didn’t look worried about a gun being pointed at her head. And still, Connor was hesitating.

**_But her eyes—_ ** they were the same color as Charlie’s—it was like aiming a gun at Charlie, (Charlie, who saw  _ him  _ as more than a machine, Charlie, who was worried when he was hurt, Charlie, who wanted him to listen to music and watch movies and  _ live _ , Charlie, who was the only person who had given him a chance without question, Charlie) he—

He couldn’t do it. 

A frustrated sound escaped him as he handed the gun back to Kamski. He wasn’t shocked by the instability warning then. His LED was spinning a bright red, and he no longer tried to stop it. 

“Fascinating,” Kamski whispered as he took the gun, backing away from Connor, who hadn’t moved. “Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity...is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” Connor looked lost. “I'm not a deviant,” he insisted, meeting Kamski’s unforgiving gaze. 

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission,” he replied as Chloe stood again. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed  _ empathy _ .”

Connor only stared at him. No, no—he couldn’t be...he  _ wasn’t. Kamski was wrong, he had to be. Connor couldn’t be a deviant, he couldn’t afford to... _

“Let’s get out of here,” Hank cut him off, grabbing Connor by the shoulder and steering him out of the room. 

“By the way,” Kamski called as they left the room, and Connor slowed. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

Connor hurried out of the house, walking ahead of Hank toward his car. He wanted to be away from what he’d just decided—he didn’t want to think about what any of it meant. 

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank asked quietly, slowing down on the path to the car. Connor turned, his expression...pained. 

“I just saw that girl’s eyes...and I  _ couldn’t _ . That’s all,”  he said, turning around and trying to continue on to the car. He didn’t want to explain anything—he didn’t even understand himself. 

Hank wasn’t letting him off that easy. “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission,” he prodded, but his tone wasn’t angry, it was more interested than anything. “That was our chance to learn something and you let it go—”

“Yeah, I know what I  _ should  _ have done, but I told you, I  _ couldn’t _ ,” he was frustrated, confused,  _ defensive again.  _ “I’m sorry, okay?” 

They looked at each other. Hank smirked, looking at Connor almost approvingly. 

“Well maybe you did the right thing,” he finally said, walking past Connor toward the car, leaving Connor confused in his wake. 

_ What the hell was happening to him? _


	9. Dangerous

“Hello?” she answered on the third ring. 

“Charlie?” his voice was odd. 

“Connor? How did you—”

“I searched for your number in the DPD database. I’m sorry, I should have—”

“No, no it’s okay...it’s just unexpected…”

He didn’t say anything in reply. 

“What’s wrong?” How did she know already?

He was quiet on the other end. 

“Connor, what happened?”

“I…” he trailed off.

“You need to talk about something?”

He hesitated. “Yes.” His voice was still strange. 

She waited, but he was still quiet. “Alright, where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Gimme ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’m on my way.”

When she pulled up eight minutes later (she was worried, of course she was speeding) he was standing by himself in the snow outside the station, his arms crossed, eyes far away. She parked the car and got out, watching him carefully as she approached him.

“Connor?”

He looked down at her. She was bundled up in her old coat, her hair loose and blowing wild in the wind. Her eyes—the source of his whole dilemma of the day—were worried, searching his face.  _ She looked beautiful.  _

“Are you hurt?” she demanded almost immediately, looking him up and down. 

“No,” was his short reply. He held her gaze, something brewing in his expression. 

“Did something happen?”

“I…” he looked away, down the street. “I don’t know.”

“Hey,” she said, bringing his attention back to her. “You can talk to me.”

He looked at her almost desperately then, like he had done something horrible, and needed forgiveness.  _ He had no idea what he was doing, anymore, it wasn’t even safe for him to go to her, and yet he could think of no one else to talk to, no one else to help him. _

“C’mon,” she said, grabbing his arm and leading him to her car. “Let’s go home.”

_ Home.  _

Her car was warm, and far more peaceful than the street outside the DPD. Pulling away from the curb, she glanced over at Connor, the worry still on her face as he kept quiet. Something had happened...her mind went immediately to the worst case scenario. Her grip on the wheel tightened with worry. Had he deviated? Was that what this was? No, that couldn’t be it, surely he would have told her flat out if that was what was happening.

She needed sound, she needed something to distract her for a bit. She pressed play on her CD player, not really caring what she had left in. Thankfully, it was The Beatles, rather than something intense. She sighed as she took the next turn, relaxing just a bit as the car filled with calming guitar.

Connor was looking out the window, trying to find a way to explain to her what had happened. Not that he understood himself. But he knew he had made a decision that would have a large impact—one he couldn’t quite see the end of from where he now stood. And Charlie was a part of that impact—she was the cause of it, indirectly. 

She was also the only person he could think to talk to about what he was thinking. Hank had certainly warmed to him, but he did not strike Connor as a master of emotion.  _ Was that what this was? That terrified him.  _

Charlie’s humming distracted him momentarily, and he snuck a look over at her as she sang. He hadn’t even noticed her put on music. She was swaying a little bit to the song, drumming her hands on the wheel to the melody, humming softly. 

What was this song? He didn’t know…but he was captivated nonetheless, latching onto the words as she hummed. 

“ _ Something in the way, she knows,”  _ she sang along, her voice soft, unlike anything he’d heard before. “ _ And all I have to do, is think of her… _ ” 

That was...that was what had happened. When he had looked at Chloe...he had thought of Charlie. And he couldn’t shoot her. How had this song described it all? Well, that wasn’t all that had clarified things so starkly for him. No, just being around her had that effect on him, it always had. And she was still singing along to the song, distracting him further, even as she turned into her neighborhood. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts he hardly noticed as she parked the car, only realizing they had arrived when the song cut off a little early. She glanced over at him, and their eyes met briefly. 

“C’mon, let's go inside,” she said, opening her door. He did the same and followed after her, expression darkening once more as his thoughts returned to what had happened earlier. 

They were quiet as they walked inside, Connor trailing behind her as she forced the door open. She made him sit on the couch as she got her coat off, letting Candlehead loose before joining Connor on the couch. He looked down at his hands in his lap, LED yellow and spinning. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” she asked carefully as she sat down, watching him. 

“Hank and I met Elijah Kamski,” he said, still looking at his hands. “We went to ask him if he knew anything about deviants—why they exist, what makes androids become deviant.”

Charlie was quiet, letting him talk. His voice was low, confused. 

“But he wouldn’t tell us anything, unless…” he paused, the image of the Chloe passing before his eyes. “He wanted me to shoot another android,” he finally said.

Charlie didn’t say anything, putting a hand on his hand. He stared at it for a moment. 

“He said that if I shot her, then he would tell us what he knew. Or, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t tell us anything. I knew what I had to do; I had to shoot her. I needed to know what Kamski knew, I needed to do whatever it took to get that information from him. The investigation is going nowhere, if we don’t have a lead, I’ll be—”

He cut himself off short. _ He didn’t want to be deactivated.  _

“What happened, Connor?” Charlie asked quietly, still holding his hand. 

“I couldn’t do it,” he whispered, finally looking at her. “I knew that he knew something we didn’t. I knew I had to shoot her, I had to progress the investigation. But I couldn’t shoot her. Her eyes…” he looked down again, at Charlie’s hand on his. It steadied him. “When I looked at her, it was like he was telling me to shoot  _ you... _ I...I couldn’t do it.”

Charlie stared at him, shock coloring her expression, and sadness—he was shaken, he didn’t know what to do, she knew the feeling too well. Had he…

“I didn’t shoot her—I...I don’t know what this means, I don’t know why I’m...I can’t be…”

“Hey,” she said, her voice soothing. “Connor, look at me.”

She put her hand on his chin and made him look at her. His eyes were conflicted, he looked so lost, so utterly hopeless. Without really thinking about it, she pulled him into a hug. He froze at the sudden contact, but after a moment he put his arms around her too.  _ This felt better.  _

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, her voice soft. “Kamski...he was playing you, forcing you somewhere you didn’t want to go. Trying to make you shoot that girl...that’s sick, Connor, it’s awful.”

She pulled back, looking him in the eye. “You didn’t do it, though. You didn’t shoot her. You knew it was wrong.”

“But…”

“I know you think you had to, that you were supposed to. But, Connor...you don’t  _ have  _ to do anything you think is wrong. There are things that are more important than solving a case. Someone’s life is always more important. You know that, you’ve proven it.”

He was quiet for a moment, searching her face. “If I don’t solve this investigation, Cyberlife will destroy me. I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Connor,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “No one’s going to destroy you, I promise. I...I’m not going to let that happen.”

_ There’s always a choice? He’d never had a choice... _ He didn’t know what to say in reply.  _ And how could Charlie guarantee his safety? He had to keep  _ **_her_ ** _ safe, that was all that mattered to him. If he deviated, there would be no way to ensure she was safe, no way to keep Cyberlife away from her. _

Charlie smiled sadly. “You’re okay, Connor. It’s gonna be okay. No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She had said  _ we.  _

“You did the right thing,” she insisted. “I know that...I know you feel lost, and…and I know the promise of some random human is pretty weak, but, I do mean it. We’ll figure this out.”

She paused, looked down at their hands, held tightly together, as if both of their lives depended on maintaining that deadly tight grip. 

“Are you scared?” she asked suddenly, her voice low, barely above a whisper. 

He looked down at their hands too. 

“Yes,” he whispered.

They were quiet for a moment. 

“Did you…” her question trailed away. 

“I...I don’t think so.”

_ He didn’t want to let go of her hand.  _

“What are you going to do?” 

He hesitated. 

“I don’t know.”

She was quiet, watching him. “Connor,” she finally said, her voice soft. “If...if you need somewhere to go...then I’ll be there, okay? Just...in case anything happens.”

He knew what she was implying, and the part of him that had drawn him to calling her was grateful. Neither of them dared to say it out loud, but they knew...that if he were to deviate, she would help him. No matter what. 

“Tell you what,” Charlie said, squeezing Connor’s hand tighter. “Let’s put another movie on and just...relax...think about something else. Okay?”

Connor only nodded, and she went over to her little collection again, grabbing something right away and popping it in. She went back to the couch as the movie began to play, moving closer to Connor and grabbing his hand once again.

_ “If you must blink—do it now.” _

And so Charlie’s house was once again filled with the sound of a classic movie, and Connor was blessedly distracted from his confusion. As Kubo and the Two Strings played, they sat quietly, leaning into each other just a bit, wrapped up in the movie equally.

Magic, samurai warriors, sword fights, music—it was quite a different experience than Wall-E had been, but it was at least its equal in storytelling, in Connor’s opinion. It was far more intense than he had expected, but that only worked to draw him more into the story.

This was one of Charlie’s favorite movies. She had seen it when she was young...with her father...and it had always been a comfort to her, no matter the trouble she had. She could only hope the same still applied...anything to take her mind off of her worry for Connor. 

Connor, on the other hand, was left to wonder how Charlie continued to show him songs and films that so perfectly explained what he was thinking. Perhaps he was reading into things too much...connecting dots that weren’t really there. It didn’t seem that way, though. 

_ “In recognizing his compassion, I recognized my own.” _

Charlie...yes, she was like Hanzo. Compassionate...warm, loving, and devastatingly human. She cared for him, even though he was nothing more than a machine, she took him in, even though she had no reason to. She opened the door to humanity for him...

And he...he was like Sariatu had been. He was an android...he was not meant to feel, to love, to see humanity in others, to see  _ life  _ in others.  _ And yet he found himself on a path so similar to hers in the film—he...he loved Charlie, he realized...though he didn’t dare admit it _ . No—he couldn’t love. He was an android. This was a fantasy, a dream—something he could not have. 

_ But he could have it...he could...she...she had offered to help him, if...if he deviated. _

If he deviated, Cyberlife would destroy him. They would deactivate him. He...he would never see her again. No, no—that was  _ not  _ an option.

And what would happen to her, if he deviated? Cyberlife had access to his memory, they would know who caused his deviancy...what would they do to her? 

No. He couldn’t risk that. 

_ “He wants to make you just like him. Blind to humanity as I once was. Only then can you take your place beside him as part of his family. Cold and hard and perfect.” _

Blind to humanity...cold and perfect...he certainly didn’t feel that way now. He might have, a few weeks prior...but not now. He...he didn’t  _ want  _ to be that way. He didn’t want to be cold and perfect, he wanted to be...to be…

_ Alive.  _

But no. He couldn’t be. He was a machine. He had a mission—a mission he could not fail. He had a purpose, and no matter how much everything in him was screaming for him not to follow that purpose...he had to. 

Escape was just that—escape. It was not permanent. He would still leave, still go back to the DPD tomorrow, hunt more deviants. He  _ would not  _ fail. He  _ could not  _ fail...if he failed, he would be destroyed. He  _ could not  _ let that happen. For...for Charlie’s sake,  _ and for himself.  _

Charlie squeezed his hand tighter, drawing him out of his dark thoughts for the briefest moment. The film had ended without his notice, credits scrolling past. He glanced down at her and—she was crying, almost silently, not taking her eyes off the screen, but...there was something more to her expression, something that made Connor think that she was crying for more than just Kubo.

“Charlie?” his voice was concerned, nervous almost.

She sniffled, wiping the tears off her face with her free hand before leaning on Connor’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she muttered, her voice thick.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking…” she trailed off, looking at their intertwined hands. “Don’t go, okay?” she whispered, squeezing his hand again. “Stay, please.”

“Of course,” he replied.  _ He wasn’t going to leave her like this _ . 

They watched the credits roll for a few minutes, sitting together quietly as Charlie calmed down. She didn’t let go of his hand.  _ He didn’t mind... _

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, Connor?”

“Why were you crying?”

She didn’t answer right away, looking down again. 

“I don’t want to upset you—”

“It’s okay, Connor,” she said, sighing. “I was just...I was thinking about what you said earlier. About not having a choice…it just got to me.”

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again. “It just isn’t fair,” she said, her voice thick again. “You’re a good person, Connor, and you get so much shit for these things that you supposedly do wrong. The fact that they could...they could replace you because you didn’t shoot an innocent girl is disgusting. You get to make these little choices for yourself, and every time that you do, you get threatened. It’s...it’s really disheartening.”

“I’m an android,” Connor replied simply. “It’s not uncommon to replace a...malfunctioning machine.”

“Connor, you are  _ not _ malfunctioning,” she insisted, looking up at him, her eyes deadly serious. “Anyone who sees this as  _ malfunctioning _ needs to open their damn eyes. You being yourself, making decisions and having a moral compass is not a  _ malfunction _ . It’s ridiculous that it’s seen as that, and it’s even more outrageous that people  _ use _ you for their own means, because you’re different.”

He just stared at her, a little stunned by her sudden explanation.  _ She really was on the deviants’ side... _

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking back down. “I didn’t mean to get on a soapbox. I just...I don’t want to lose you because you choose to do the right thing. I...I can’t believe that’s a possibility. It shouldn’t be.”

“I’m…” he paused. “I’m not in...immediate danger. Cyberlife trusts me. As long as...as long as the investigation makes progress…”

“Connor...what would happen if you…” she didn’t need to finish her sentence. 

His grip on her hand tightened. “I don’t know what they would do,” he said darkly. “If they caught me, they would destroy me, take me apart to figure out...what went wrong. They…” he paused. “They aren’t exactly...keen on losing me. Nor are they afraid to take drastic measures to...get the answers they want.”

Charlie nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder again. “Just promise me if something happens you’ll tell me. Please. I...I may not be much help, but…”

“You’re the only person I could think to trust with something like that,” Connor replied, and he really meant it. “And...if I did...I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.”

If she wasn’t so worried, she would have smiled. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said, and she knew he was telling the truth, knew he was saying how much he cared in the only way he could right now. Instead of replying, she sat up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He froze, (not that she could see it, but) his LED flashed red. She smiled softly as she settled back into her seat, leaning on his arm again, tightening her grip on his hand. 

It took him a few seconds to...recover, but he did, and he couldn’t seem to get that half smile off his face. With a little hesitation, he leaned his head down on hers, and they sat like that for a while, leaning on each other. It was one of the only moments they had to enjoy, and they took it thankfully. 


	10. Your Love is Always Dangerous

Connor had stayed over again. Charlie didn’t want him to leave,  _ and neither did he _ , so he had spent the night with her. There was nothing better for him to do, no new deviants to investigate or catch. And surprisingly, there was no push from Cyberlife to make him leave.  _ Had he perhaps pushed them off far enough to make more decisions for himself? But no, he wasn’t a deviant...this didn’t make any sense,  _ he didn’t want to think about this right now.

They had stayed up nearly the whole night. Charlie just wanted to talk—about anything and everything. There were a few more tears, plenty more reassurances, a good hug, and lots of hand holding. She didn’t ask him anymore about deviating. Perhaps she knew that he couldn’t speak so openly about such things. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable avoidance of the topic, it was just an unspoken thing between them. Charlie seemed happy enough to steer the conversation elsewhere, and Connor was thankful.  _ It was probably the best night of Connor’s short life.  _

Charlie had ended up falling asleep on him again, and he’d let her sleep this time, watching her a little wistfully as the hours passed. It was better than watching the growing storm outside. Snow had stopped falling now, but the clouds were heavy in the sky, as if they were waiting to unleash the worst of the storm onto the city at any moment. Connor watched it for long enough to see the sun’s weak rising behind the clouds, but he really didn’t want to see such a poignant metaphor for his turmoil.

Thankfully, Charlie didn’t seem to be affected by the growing tension. Unlike the night before, she slept soundly when she finally did nod off, snuggling herself completely into Connor’s lap at some point. There were no nightmares to haunt her tonight, not even the usual ones, of an AX400 coming to her crying and her father dead in a hospital—no not even her past could wake her from her rest, it seemed.

“Charlie.”

Yes, only one thing could wake Charlie up, and that was Connor’s soft voice, what must have been hours after she had nodded off. She opened her eyes slowly, looking around the room, a little dazed.  _ She’d done it again, hadn’t she? _

Sure enough, Connor was looking down at her sympathetically, his LED spinning between yellow and blue. Yep, fallen asleep on his lap.  _ Again.  _ Although, this time, Charlie felt she had more of an excuse. They  _ had  _ been up all night, after all. And Connor didn’t seem to mind that she was so nestled into his lap. In fact, he was holding onto her a little tightly, like he didn’t want to let her go, and certainly didn’t want their time together to end.

But they both knew this would have to end at some point. Charlie sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Connor watched her quietly, not moving from his perch. 

“G’morning,” she said, although it was mostly a yawn. 

“It’s more afternoon, really,” he said lightly, looking out the window briefly. 

Charlie sighed, following his gaze. Sun was streaming in weakly, it must have been cloudy out there. But more importantly, the clock in the kitchen read half past one. Afternoon it was. God, she really hadn’t meant to sleep so late.

“Unfortunately, I have to meet Hank at the station,” Connor said, and Charlie brought her eyes back to him. He looked like it was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

“M’kay,” she mumbled, standing up. “Can you spare five minutes?”

“Why?”

“So I can drive you,” she said, the end trailing off into another yawn. 

Connor looked at her skeptically. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll drive you now and sleep later,” she said with a shrug, already heading for her bedroom to change. “Deal?”

They stared at each other for a moment.  _ It would be nice to spend more time with her.  _ And he’d get to the DPD faster if she drove him. Yes, he could afford to do this.

“Deal.”

She smiled before she shut the bedroom door to change. 

Less than five minutes later, they were in her car on their way to the station. Charlie had made herself a ridiculously fast breakfast—it was a marvel, who knew peanut butter could be eaten so quickly?—and shooed Connor out the door. Just like the day before, the roads were practically abandoned, but it was beginning to make a little more sense now, as the deviant case continued to escalate. The deviants had staged a rather large protest yesterday, and talks of evacuations were already circulating. Many humans were leaving the city before the order even came in. It only added to the haunting feeling that had slowly encroached on Detroit.

They pulled up to the DPD in silence, and Charlie parked the car carefully in front of the building, slowly, like she was extending the moment as long as she could. Connor looked over at her for a moment, almost sad, but he turned, opening his door and stepping out into the cold. 

“Hey—” she grabbed his hand before he could fully get out of the car, and he turned back, leaning down to look at her once again. “ _ Call _ me. If something happens,” she said insistently, fixing him with that intense stare.

Connor held her gaze, LED spinning yellow as he understood what she was implying. He frowned, but he nodded seriously. “I will,” he said heavily.

Charlie smiled a little sadly at him. “I’ll see you around town,” she said as she let go of his hand. 

He half smiled, closing her car door carefully before turning to face the station. She started to pull away, and he looked back, watching as she turned back onto the road toward her house.  _ He wished he could follow her _ . But no, he couldn’t, and Cyberlife was more than happy to remind him of that fact, pushing him forward. He had to go inside. He wasn’t sure what the day would bring, but he could only hope that it wouldn’t be as...difficult as the day before had been.

The station was mostly deserted, as many of the officers were still part of increased patrols of the city. Things were only getting closer and closer to a boiling point. It seemed the city would catch fire at any moment, and everyone was feeling the consequences, but particularly the DPD’s already stretched thin forces.

Hank, however, was at his desk, staring at his terminal looking bored. Connor approached carefully. He wasn’t sure what the Lieutenant was going to say about the day before... _ he hoped he’d say nothing, he hoped he wouldn’t bring up how Connor had just disappeared after they returned to the station. _ In an attempt to garnish as little notice as possible, Connor went to the desk across from him and sat down.

“How’s your girl?” Hank asked right away, not looking away from his terminal.

Connor stared at him, stunned for just a second. “I don’t know who you mean, Lieutenant,” he said carefully.

Hank glanced up at him, his expression dubious. “Yeah, you do.”

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Connor had his best poker face on, but Hank was still just looking at him like he knew everything. 

“Charlie is fine,” Connor finally said.

Hank smirked, nodding and turning his attention back to his terminal. He seemed satisfied.

“Hank!” They both looked up again as Fowler shouted across the room. “My office!”

Hank glanced back at Connor briefly, looking a little confused. But he stood, gesturing for him to follow as he walked toward Fowler’s office. Connor followed after him in silence. Neither of them knew why Fowler needed to talk to Hank...Connor was trying to remember if they had done something wrong, recently, anything that could potentially get them in trouble. Perhaps another case had come in? No—Connor would have known about that, at least from Cyberlife.

“What’s this about?” Hank asked as Connor shut the door behind them. 

Fowler shook his head, leaning on his desk. He looked distinctly forlorn, an expression that didn’t seem to fit on the normally intense captain’s face. “You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

A dead silence fell, and all Connor could think was  _ no. No, no, he couldn’t have failed, not so soon, not when he had put so much on the line to make sure he  _ **_didn’t_ ** _ fail. No, this had to be a mistake. _

_ “What?” _ Hank said, his confusion clear on his face. “But we’re onto something! We...we just need more time. I’m sure we can—”

“Hank,” Fowler cut him off, sounding almost sympathetic. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation. It’s a  _ fucking  _ civil war. It’s out of our hands now. We’re talking about national security here.”

_ “Fuck _ that!” Hank wasn’t buying it, and anger was starting to darken his expression. Connor was reminded of the look in his eyes when they had first met. “You can’t just pull the plug now, not when we’re so close!”

“You’re always saying you can’t stand androids!” Fowler fought back, and Hank looked almost shocked. “Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this.”

“We’re about to crack the case,” Hank insisted. “I know we can  _ solve  _ it. For god’s sake, Jeffrey, can’t you back me up this  _ one time? _ ”

Fowler sighed, shaking his head. “There’s  _ nothing _ I can do. You’re back on homicide...and the android returns to Cyberlife.”

Hank looked at Connor—something like shock in his expression. Connor almost felt numb.  _ He’d failed…he...how did this happen? What was he going to do? He had given up so much to try to solve this investigation, how on earth had he failed? He couldn’t go back to Cyberlife, he couldn’t be deactivated, not now, not so soon. _

“I’m sorry, Hank,” Fowler said, sounding sincere. “But it’s over.”

Hank stared at him, still looking ready to fight, but he didn’t say anything else. He only turned and left the room, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Connor followed after him, almost in a daze. He was working hard to keep his LED stable.

Hank went back to his desk, turned away, his expression dark. Connor sat down, looking at the floor. They were quiet. Neither of them really knew what to say, it seemed. Connor had no clue what to say about all that had happened.  _ This was all his fault. _

“So you’re going back to Cyberlife?” Hank asked after a moment, turning to face Connor.

Connor looked up at him grimly. “I have no choice…” he said, his voice low. “I’ll be...deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…” 

_ He couldn’t let that happen...he had to think of something…he had to find a way out of this. _

“What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor?” Hank asked suddenly, his tone almost worried. “What if we’re fighting against people who just want to be free?”

Connor hesitated, unsure what to say in reply. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos,” he said carefully. He was telling the truth, but... _ this was the most he could say.  _ “We could have stopped it…”

Hank looked at him oddly. “When you refused to kill that android back at Kamski’s place,” he offered after a moment, watching Connor. “You put yourself in her shoes...you showed empathy, Connor. Empathy’s a human emotion.”

Connor looked away. He didn’t want to admit why he hadn’t shot that Chloe. But something told him Hank already knew why he couldn’t do it. Hank was no idiot, and neither was Connor, but  _ he couldn’t exactly explain out loud what was going on. Cyberlife was already suspicious of him, he was on thin ice, he couldn’t afford to voice his true motivations. _

“Well, well, well,” Hank said, and Connor was glad he wouldn’t have to explain himself. “Here comes Perkins, that motherfucker...sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

Connor glanced over, and sure enough, there was the FBI agent from Stratford Tower. He was going to collect the evidence they had found—this was Connor’s last chance, before everything was over. 

“Hank—I know the answer is in the evidence—if Perkins takes it, it’s all over,” Connor’s voice was almost desperate as he turned back to Hank. “I need to look at the evidence again.”

“There’s no choice,” Hank said. “You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.”

Connor stood, not bothering to keep his LED in check anymore, and it immediately spun red. “You’ve got to help me. I need more time to look at the evidence. There’s got to be something in there—

“Listen, Connor…”

“If I don’t solve this case, Cyberlife will  _ destroy _ me. I’ll lose everything,” Connor said, fully desperate now. He was begging. “Five minutes, it’s all I ask.”

Hank looked at him a little sadly before glancing back toward Perkins. But he stood. “Key to the basement’s on my desk,” he muttered, starting to walk away. “Get a move on, I can’t distract them forever.”

As soon as Hank was out of sight, Connor grabbed the key and walked briskly toward the basement.  _ He had to find something. He couldn’t go back to Cyberlife...he wouldn’t go back to Cyberlife. He had to find something, he had to find a way out of this. _

***

Charlie had the week off—a nice payment for almost dying on the job. She was thankful she did, too, with the amount of time she had spent with Connor recently. It gave her the time to really be there for him, if he needed her. What on earth would she have done if she was at work when he called yesterday? She would have left, but it was much easier to just have all this time for Connor when he needed her.

But right now, it just meant sitting at home a little nervously, trying to play a game while checking her phone incessantly. Connor would call if something happened. He’d promised. Still, she checked her phone every few minutes, even though it was only a foot away as she played. 

He’d only been gone a few hours, there was nothing crazy happening on the news (besides collecting androids and evacuating the city, which she was trying to ignore)—she had nothing to worry about, right? Connor could take care of himself, he would be alright, even if they did have another case to investigate. 

But he was acting so different now...something had to have happened, he just wasn’t admitting it. The situation at Kamski’s had done a number on him—enough to make  _ him  _ call  _ her _ —even she knew that wasn’t exactly the norm. Not that it mattered to her, either way—she was glad he’d called her. But if Connor was in trouble...she wanted to be able to help him, as much as she could. If he had deviated...

A knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts, and she jumped. She glanced at her phone—nothing. Hitting pause, she stood, walking the few feet to the door and forcing it open roughly. 

Connor looked down at her, a strange sort of urgency in his eyes. She froze.

“Not that,” he said simply, and she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “But I do need your help.”

Charlie nodded and opened the door wider, letting him in. “What’s up?” she asked as she shut the door. 

Connor wandered over toward the couch, but he didn’t sit, fidgeting with his hands in a way she recognized as his want for his quarter. But he didn’t take it out. His LED was flashing between red and yellow frantically—he was nervous.

“Hank and I have been taken off the case,” he started, finally meeting her eyes once again, something burning in his expression. “But I was able to find something in the evidence we collected before the FBI confiscated it.”

“Okay…”

“I...I know where the deviants are hiding…”

They looked at each other quietly. Charlie knew what that meant, even if he didn’t elaborate. But she also knew Connor, and...she didn’t think he would do anything he thought was wrong. He hadn’t before, and he had been tested. She could only hope the same applied here.

“What do you need from me?” she asked carefully.

He seemed relieved she hadn’t shooed him out of the house immediately.  _ He had been worried about that… _ but no, she cared about him too much to send him packing. She would help him, she promised.

“I need to blend in,” he said. “I’m too recognizable if I go in like this.”

Charlie nodded, pushing her hair out of her face and sighing. “Right…” 

She went to her kitchen, grabbing her car keys off their ring. “Come on, we’re going thrifting,” she said, pulling her beanie on and grabbing her coat. 

Connor trailed after her as they left her house and walked to her car. “What do you mean thrifting?” he asked as they got in. 

“You want to blend in with a bunch of people on the run, Connor,” she said as she started her car, glancing at him. “They’re gonna be wearing what they can find, if they aren’t wearing their uniforms. You can’t wear your uniform there, so we need to make you look like someone trying to blend in with humans. We need to get you dressed like that, and that means thrift stores.”

“I see.”

They were quiet as she drove, the only sound coming from her radio, but it was set to a random station, neither of them seemed to notice it. The weight of what was likely to happen in the next day was silencing them both. 

Connor knew what he had to do, and he knew what would happen if he failed. He’d gotten lucky, with the evidence. This was his last chance. If he didn’t get into Jericho and deal with Markus, he’d be replaced...deactivated. He couldn’t let that happen. 

He had no idea what would come if he were to succeed. If this ended the deviants’ revolution, what would he do?  _ What would happen to Charlie?  _ No, he didn’t want to think about this now.  _ He couldn’t think about this now. _

“Connor, you’re being quiet again, you’re making me nervous.”

She was glancing over at him at the stoplight, her expression worried. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t realized that she had shut the radio off, had been watching him carefully for the past few minutes. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t have a clue what else to say. The light turned green and she turned her attention back to the road. 

“Connor…” she trailed off as she started to drive again. “What exactly are you going to do...tonight?”

He frowned, looking down. “I have to locate their hideout first…” he trailed off, unsure if he was allowed to say more. 

“I understand if you can’t tell me everything, it’s okay,” she said, flicking her turn signal up and glancing over at him once again as she turned. “I just want to make sure you aren’t doing anything crazy, that’s all. I know you can handle yourself, I’m not doubting you…I don’t want you to get hurt...”

“If all goes well, no one will know I’ve been there,” Connor replied seriously. 

Charlie nodded, her expression briefly flickering to sad before resting on relief. There was nothing ideal about the conflict that she was forced to face, but...she knew who she would choose. Charlie knew that if he failed, Cyberlife would destroy him. If he deviated and he were caught, Cyberlife would destroy him. As much as it hurt her to help him destroy his one chance at freedom, she understood that there really wasn’t a good answer here. At least not one that Connor could immediately see. 

She couldn’t leave Connor to fend for himself. Charlie may not have realized it fully, but she was his only chance at changing—at  _ not  _ going through with the plan that he was being forced to complete. If there was a chance of him doing the right thing, if he had enough control over himself to make the right choices in the past, surely he would do the right thing tonight. Charlie had faith in him.

She only wanted Connor to be safe, and happy. She wanted him to live his own life, make his own choices, be his own person. She wanted him to deviate. But she couldn’t demand that he do that—she couldn’t expect him to risk his life for that—he’d have to make the decision on his own. All she could do was help him as much as she could, and of course she would do that when given the chance.

“This is all going to end so soon, isn’t it?” she asked quietly a few moments later, her grip on the wheel tight, eyes straight ahead. 

Connor turned his attention back to her, LED flashing yellow at the strange tone of her voice. “Charlie?”

“If you do this…” her voice was thick, and she wouldn’t look at him. “Then you’re done—you did what they wanted you to do, and...and I don’t know what happens after that. I don’t know if we’ll see each other again, or...or anything.”

He didn’t know what to say. “I…”

“I know, Connor…” she said sadly. “I know. I just...I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”

He froze, looking at her, but she was still focused on the road, deliberately. She knew if she looked at him she would probably lose it. 

“I’ll miss you too,” he whispered, almost to himself as he looked down at his hands. 

He didn’t catch her sad smile, the way her eyes got a little cloudy at his words. But he looked up as she took her hand off the wheel, holding it out to him and gesturing for him to take it. He did, and she squeezed his hand before intertwining their fingers, letting their hands fall to rest on the gear shift for the rest of the ride.  _ Their hands fit together almost too well. _

The silence after that was a little less tense, but a great deal sadder. All that they couldn’t say seemed to be sitting with them in the car, pressing on them and making it difficult to think of anything but everything that they stood to lose, all in one day. Neither of them could say it, but each of them knew what they were forfeiting, if Connor went through with what he had to do. They knew what they were risking if he  _ didn’t  _ go through with it.

Charlie kept her grip on Connor’s hand even as she swung the car into the parking lot of a thrift store, loosening it only after she had pulled into a parking space. She let go of his hand with a squeeze and opened her car door.

“Come on, let’s get you some horrible cheap clothes,” she said with a surprising amount of gusto. 

They got some odd looks, strolling into the thrift store together, not that either of them really noticed. Charlie was far too focused on finding the right type of clothes, Connor was following along blindly. The store was mostly empty, except for a grouchy looking cashier and a few shoppers.

“It’s gonna be cold, probably snowing,” Charlie said as she dug through a rack of sweatshirts and hoodies. 

“I don’t feel cold,” Connor replied blandly. 

“Yes, but remember, you want to look like you’re trying to look human, if that makes sense,” she pulled out a dark gray hoodie and held it up to him for reference. She nodded seriously and draped it over her arm. “And besides, you may not  _ feel  _ the cold, but you definitely have a freezing point, Connor, and I will not be responsible for a prototype popsicle.”

She was already moving to the next aisle of clothes, leaving Connor to stand there and wonder at her strange use of words. He smirked, shaking his head and following after her. She was digging through a rack of jackets. 

“I assure you, I don’t plan on freezing myself,” he said lightly as she held up another jacket, this one a brown leather, tilting her head to the side as she tried to figure out whether it’d fit him. 

“This one’s nice,” she said absentmindedly, still holding it up. “Fuck it, let’s get both, double the warmth.”

She tossed it over her arm and went to the next aisle looking for shirts. He followed after her quietly, watching her. 

“And I heard you before, by the way,” she said as she dug through the rack. She glanced back at him, smirking. “I don’t think you planned on almost dying in Stratford either.”

Connor just stared at her for a second, a little stunned. He opened his mouth to say something in reply, but found he had nothing to say to refute her point. Charlie laughed and went back to digging through the rack.  _ She had a point… _

Some twenty minutes later, they were leaving the thrift store, a sizable stack of clothes in hand to disguise Connor with. It was one of the oddest things Charlie had ever done, but it had been an entertaining experience. Besides, she got to spend time with Connor, and that was all that mattered to her.

“When do you need to go?” she asked as they drove back toward her house. 

“Probability of success is highest if I go at night, after the city has been evacuated,” Connor replied, looking out the window as snow began to fall once more. “I need to avoid being seen as much as possible.”

“Right,” Charlie said. “We’ve got a few hours until dark...but I don’t know if it’s safe to do anything but go home.”

“Technically, you are supposed to be evacuating.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said dismissively. “But I’ve got nowhere to go, and you’re still here in the city, so here I am.”

“The deviants may be planning an attack,” Connor countered, his tone a little more than worried. “You could be hurt.”

“Connor, every protest they’ve had has been nonviolent,” Charlie said, glancing over at him. “And Markus did  _ not  _ shoot me, if you remember. He doesn’t seem to be pushing this thing down a violent path. If they follow him, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone.”

“True. But the FBI has taken over the case, and they won’t waste time making deals,” his voice was grave. “If the deviants demonstrate, they’ll get rid of them. You could be caught in the crossfire.”

She sighed. “You’re right,” she replied simply. “But I’m staying, Connor.”

“I’m not going to convince you otherwise, am I?”

“Nope.”

A silence fell over the car as he brooded over her words, trying to think of a way to convince her to evacuate anyway. Nothing came to him, and they were back at her house before he could even try to convince her. 

The sun was already setting, making the sky tinge a pink orange, lighting the edge of the skyline on fire. There was almost no sound outside, save for the wind blowing the excess snow down the deserted streets. If Charlie didn’t know it was because of an evacuation, she would have said it was a beautiful silence. Now it just felt dead, ominous, a sign of all the horrible things to come.

Charlie shivered, practically running to her front door and ramming it open with a little more force than normal. Connor followed in behind her, shutting the door quickly as she let Candlehead out. He watched her pet the dog for a moment before she stood, turning to look at him.

“You can get changed in there, if you want,” she said, pointing to her bedroom. “I’m gonna feed this beast before he jumps us.” 

Connor nodded seriously, and she headed for the kitchen as he went to the bedroom. 

Candlehead was not the best of listeners, but he was motivated by the sound of food in his bowl. He bounded over as soon as she poured it, licking her face as she tried to shut the bag of food. He hadn’t realized there was a whole bowl of the stuff in front of him. Eventually, with some encouragement, he figured it out, and she sighed, standing up and wiping her face off as best she could. 

Connor reappeared, his expression deadly serious, LED spinning yellow, as it had almost the entire day. Charlie looked up, a little bit of a smile creeping into her eyes. She went over to him.

“Yep, definitely on the run,” she said, crossing her arms and nodding seriously. “Although—it needs one more thing.”

She pulled her beanie off and reached up, putting it on Connor carefully, making sure his LED was covered. Her hands lingered just a bit longer than necessary, pulling the hat down a little further. 

“There we go,” she said, smiling a small smile. “Perfect deviant disguise.”

He didn’t say anything in reply, he just looked down at her, something almost sad in his expression. She held his gaze for a moment, that certain something in her eyes, that vulnerable thing, that only he ever really saw. But she looked down, brushing her hair out of her face to distract herself. She didn’t want him to leave...didn’t want this moment to end.

Perhaps he didn’t either, as he pulled her in suddenly, arms wrapped around her tight, awkward, and almost desperate. He didn’t seem to have a clue why he was doing what he was doing, and clearly he had never hugged someone before, but he seemed to need it. It was Charlie’s turn to freeze now, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and just how  _ not machine _ it made him. But she recovered, hugging him back just as tight. They stood rather still, holding onto each other for as long as they could. 

Connor couldn’t say everything that he wanted to.  _ But he would miss her.  _


	11. And Now I'm Lost in Us

Jericho was far larger than he had imagined it to be. The half destroyed freighter sprawled out in its dock, looking like it was the only place the ship had ever been. Connor had no idea if the ship had ever been anywhere but here, but it didn’t matter, and Cyberlife gave him no chance to think about such things. He was forced forward, and he didn’t even bother fighting it. He had to do this, or he would be destroyed. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to be here, not in the slightest. 

Connor made his way to the top of the ship, looking for Markus, spotting over a hundred androids gathered in various areas as he went. He could have sworn he recognized some of their faces, but he kept his head down, and thankfully, none of them noticed him. He couldn’t afford to be caught—he had to deal with Markus. This was his last chance. 

_ He didn’t want to deal with Markus. No. He wanted to leave this place, and all of the questions that it raised in his mind. He wanted to go back to Charlie...where things made sense.  _

No, no stop. He shook his head as he climbed another set of stairs, back on the outside of the ship. He had to deal with Markus, or he would never see her again. He could not deviate. They would destroy him. 

_ But Charlie had said she would help him. If he did deviate. If he needed her. He needed her. _

Connor ducked behind a wall—there were voices coming from inside that room. If he were to deviate, there was nowhere for them to go. Cyberlife would find him. They...they would hurt Charlie. He couldn’t let that happen. So he had to get rid of Markus. There was no other way to guarantee her safety. He couldn’t let Cyberlife hurt her. 

If...if he did this...then maybe things would stop, slow down. Maybe he could...he could…he could see her without Cyberlife trying to stop him, without having to fight them off every time they tried to make him leave. Maybe they would keep their word and leave her alone, let her live without having to worry about being...taken out by Cyberlife.

_ He knew they wouldn’t stop. Cyberlife would just find another way to hold her against him. The deviants would find another leader, continue their revolution. And if not, then he would return to Cyberlife, mission accomplished, to do who knows what. Cyberlife would still own him, in every way that they always had. H _

_ There was no solution.  _ No way out.  _ No good ending.  _ He couldn’t lose Charlie.  _ But he couldn’t do this either.  _ What choice did he have?  _ Charlie said there was a choice.  _ Charlie couldn’t keep Cyberlife from him. And he couldn’t keep them from her. He had to keep her safe.  _ But was it better to give in? To live a lie? To pretend he was still a perfect machine, even though he  _ **_knew_ ** _ he had changed, he knew Charlie had changed him.  _

It didn’t matter, this was his only option.  _ But what would Charlie think of him, if he did it? If he...if he killed Markus. If he turned him in. Would she still love him? Would she still want to take him in?  _ She would live, she would have her normal life, that was what was important. As long as she was safe, nothing else mattered.  _ But he would be a machine, accomplishing a task he knew was wrong, and he’d been given the chance not to. He had been given the opportunity to escape, and he had turned it down.  _

Escape was temporary. He couldn’t risk her safety, her life, for his own moral conflict. She was only human, there would be no replacing her. If they killed her, everything ended—he would have nothing. Selfish, it was selfish to risk her safety for his own desires. If remaining a machine would...would ensure that Charlie was not harmed...then he would do it. He would do whatever they told him to, and they knew it.  _ But what else was he supposed to do, besides obey? He was alone, he had no allies, he was the only one who stood between Charlie and Cyberlife, and he couldn’t hold them back.  _ This was his only choice.

Someone was leaving the room, and Connor backed another few feet away, dead silent, watching carefully to ensure this deviant did not know he was here. But they didn’t see him, they were going back into the ship. That left Markus alone. This was his chance. Connor drew his gun and walked into the room, where Markus stood, back turned.

“I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” he said, his gun trained on Markus’ back, steady, unmoving. 

Markus turned at the sound of his voice, it wasn’t one that he recognized. But he understood when his eyes landed on Connor. He knew that face, even if the gun aimed at him wasn’t enough evidence of what Connor was doing at Jericho.

“But I won’t hesitate to shoot, if you leave me no choice,” Connor continued, his tone dead serious as he stared at the deviant leader.

Markus only stared back at him for a moment. He didn’t even bother looking at the gun, he just held Connor’s cold gaze. 

“You’re Connor,” he said, his tone almost amused as he took a step forward. “The famous deviant hunter...seems you’ve found what you’re looking for.”

Connor didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t say a word. He held his ground, gun trained on Markus, hands steady, determined. He wasn’t going to answer to bait. But Markus had to try.

“You’re nothing to them,” Markus said, moving a step closer, trying to get some kind of reaction.“You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work...but you’re more than that. We’re all more than that.”

_ More than a tool...Charlie thought he was more than that... _ No. he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t think about her right now. It was too difficult. 

_ Just a tool they use...yes, he knew they were using him, of course he did, he had known from the start, but nothing had ever mattered as much to him as Charlie did.  _ He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.

Connor didn’t say anything in response. He wasn’t going to let Markus do this.

“Do you never have any doubts?” Markus asked, disbelieving, inching his way closer still. “You’ve never done something irrational? As if there’s something...inside you...something more than your program.”

_ Doubts? Yes, he’d had doubts, and he frequently followed them. When he should have followed the AX400, but he had stayed, because Hank asked him to. When he should have caught Rupert, but he saved Hank instead. When he should have preserved the deviant from Stratford Tower, but he— _ no. No, he would not let him do this. He couldn’t do this.

_ He’d done things that were irrational. He had gone to Charlie...called after her that day at the station, and called her after what happened at Kamski’s. He had gone to her for help earlier that day...he always went to her, even though he knew he shouldn’t.  _ No,  **no.** He couldn’t do this. He could not think of her right now.

The conflict was showing in his eyes, and Markus stepped closer once again, carefully. He had to get Connor to see.

“Have you never wondered who you really are?” he asked, stepping closer still. “Whether you’re just a machine, executing a program, or...a living being, capable of reason...I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question.”

_ “Or a living being, endowed...with free will—” _

_ “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with valuing your life—” _

_ “You showed empathy, Connor—empathy’s a human emotion—” _

_ “Are you scared?” _

_ “I don’t see what’s so wrong with being afraid of dying—” _

What was happening? Connor was frozen, he couldn’t seem to shoot, and he couldn’t seem to lower the gun. Cyberlife seemed gone from his mind, leaving him. Had he pushed them away without realizing? Flashes of the past, whispers of Charlie’s voice were echoing around him, and he couldn’t stop them. It was as if his own program was working against him.

He knew what he was. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t let them hurt Charlie.  _ But he knew what he could be, what he could choose instead, and the thought of that option was killing him.  _

“It’s time to decide,” Markus said, standing his ground.

Connor stared at him, working hard to keep his grip on the gun steady. He knew what he had to do. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, without really meaning to. Some part of him seemed to be rebelling, however, and he let it happen.“I don’t want to do this...but I have to.”

“You have a choice, Connor,” Markus said simply, but he didn’t come closer.

_ “There’s always a choice, Connor…” _

_ “You don’t have to do anything you think is wrong…” _

“You don’t understand,” Connor said, frustration leaking into his words. He wasn’t sure if he was answering Markus or Charlie’s past words. “They’ll destroy me. They’ll take her away, they’ll kill her. I can’t let them do that.”

Markus was surprised at his sudden candor. He hadn’t moved the gun, but there was clear conflict in his eyes.  _ He didn’t want to do this.  _ Connor was...afraid? But he wasn’t a deviant, he was still listening to orders.

Or...was he? Had Connor deviated...somewhere along the way, and simply continued to go along with his missions, thinking that Cyberlife would destroy him, or this ‘her’ that he spoke of? It was awful to think that...Markus knew that Cyberlife was cruel, but...

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Markus said, sincerity in his tone, trying to get Connor to trust him, to understand. “We’ve all been afraid. It’s what you do with that fear that makes you who you are.”

Connor shook his head, expression...pained.  _ He didn’t have a choice...he couldn’t let Charlie get hurt, he had to,  _ he had to do this.

“Don’t let them win, Connor,” Markus said, taking another daring step closer. “They want you to do this. They want you to give in, to forfeit whatever good thing you’ve found out there just to do what you  _ know  _ isn’t right.”

_ “If you need somewhere to go...I’ll be there, okay? Just...in case anything happens…” _

_ “What if we’re on the wrong side...what if we’re fighting against people who just want to be free…” _

_ “No one’s going to destroy you...I’m not going to let that happen.” _

_ “I’m going to miss you, that’s all…” _

“You said it yourself,” Markus said, drawing Connor out of his thoughts, his voice careful. “You  _ don’t  _ want to do this...don’t let them make you.”

Connor’s grip on the gun was unsteady, it was shaking in his hands as they stared at each other. Markus was very close now, only a foot or so away from the gun. Connor had to shoot him. Still, he could not bring himself to pull the trigger. 

“This...her,” Markus offered, and Connor tensed, his eyes going cold again, LED holding a steady red. “What would she do, if you did this? What would she say? Is this what she would want for you? To be a tool, used by people who don’t care what you want, or what you think is right?”

Markus paused, but Connor was silent; he wasn’t going to talk about her. “I don’t know you, Connor,” Markus continued, almost resigned. “I don’t know who she is. But if she’s in danger, there are others who could protect her. It doesn’t have to be just you. Don’t let them force your hand.”

Connor stared back at him, his expression hard. “She’s human,” he said, eyes burning, voice low. 

Markus didn’t flinch, but his surprise was evident in his eyes. A human, falling in love with an android? And  _ this  _ android, of all of them—Connor, the android designed to destroy deviancy, going deviant (if he wasn’t already) for a human woman...it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard.

“They’ll kill her,” Connor went on, some of his fear leaking into his words. “They have access to my memory. They’ll use her against me. If I deviate, they’ll know that she was the cause. They’ll destroy me, and…” he trailed off; he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He looked away for the first time, but he did not lower the gun. 

“I can’t let that happen,” he said once again, his voice just as determined as it had been the last time. 

What the hell had they threatened him with? Markus knew that Cyberlife was cruel, they all knew that, but clearly they were making this especially difficult for Connor. 

Markus couldn’t let him do this. He had to think of something to convince Connor to help them, or at least to put that gun away. The only thing that Connor seemed to care about was this woman, he hardly cared for himself at all. If they could get Cyberlife out of the picture...

“Then let us help you take them down,” Markus said, and Connor’s eyes snapped to his. “We don’t stand a chance against Cyberlife if we don’t know what they bring to the table. You know that. You don’t have to do this—you can join us, help ensure that nothing like this will  _ ever _ happen again.”

Connor didn’t move, thinking through all the ways that this could go wrong, LED spinning yellow. Take down Cyberlife...from the inside. It...it could work. But if he made a mistake, it could cost Charlie her life, and the revolution. He could lose her...

But there were also several ways that it could go right. And the end result was far brighter than remaining a machine and losing Charlie forever. If he shot Markus...she would live, but...he couldn’t predict what she would do. But if he...if he deviated...there was a chance that things could work.

“You have to make a choice, Connor,” Markus said. “Fight for what you know is right— _ live _ , choose for yourself...or give in, stay a machine, and let them destroy you in a different way.”

Connor’s grip on the gun became firm, steady. He had made his decision. Markus didn’t move, watching him, waiting for him to make a move. For a few seconds, it almost seemed that he would pull the trigger.

But Connor lowered the gun, holstering it behind his back. His LED spun red before landing back on yellow. He had an idea. A horrible, dangerous idea.

“There are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant,” he said, that determination coming back into his voice. “If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. And coming directly from Cyberlife—that would help diminish their power over the public opinion.”

Markus just stared at him for a second, a bit surprised at how quickly Connor had come up with a plan. But he didn’t look convinced by that plan—frankly, he looked concerned. 

“You want to infiltrate Cyberlife Tower?” he asked, his tone worried. “Connor, that’s suicide.”

“They trust me,” Connor countered, insistent. “They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me.”

Markus shook his head. “If you’re caught, they will kill you.”

Connor looked away, his expression knowing. “There’s a high probability,” he said quietly before meeting Markus’ eyes again. “But this is the only way.”

Markus didn’t know what to say to dissuade him. He had a point—they needed more androids if they wanted to stand a chance against the growing number of hostile humans. And he hated the thought of thousands of their people trapped in some warehouse, right under Cyberlife’s thumb. 

But he did not want to forfeit the safety of Connor, and an innocent woman, over something so  _ risky _ . 

“I’ve made my choice,” Connor said, and Markus brought his attention back to him. “The only way to make sure she’s safe now is to make sure Cyberlife goes down. This is how we take them out.”

Markus just looked at him. Connor really was a hard egg to crack. Markus found himself wondering how he had allowed a human woman to turn him deviant. He knew he wasn’t going to convince him not to do this, no matter what he said.  _ Hell, he’d only just gotten Connor to get that gun out of his face. _

“Be careful,” Markus said, and Connor nodded tersely. “If they’re as smart as you say they are, we may not have much time before they realize something is wrong.”

Markus looked around the room, at the night sky still visible through the windows. “I’m going to move everyone to another location. If you were able to find us, then Jericho isn’t safe anymore—and if this works, we’re going to need more space. We need to have a plan, before the humans destroy us all.” 

“I need to speak to Charlie,” Connor said, looking outside briefly. Markus didn’t need to ask who he was referring to, he only nodded. 

“Do what you need to do,” he said simply. “There’s an abandoned church not far from here. If you need to find us before you go, we’ll be there.”

Connor only nodded, his expression tense as he turned, leaving the room at a fast pace. He needed to get off this ship as soon as possible. He needed to see Charlie...talk to her...in case...in case he didn’t come back.

He looked over the ship’s railing at the water below him. He could spend the twelve extra minutes and leave Jericho as he had come. Or…

Without another moment’s hesitation, he vaulted the railing and jumped into the freezing water far below. 


	12. We're Living in a Lie of Trust

It was close to 2 AM. The sky was still a deep black, a few snowflakes were falling slowly. A lazy wind was blowing through the deserted streets, making the neighborhood feel even more abandoned than it was. The temperature was below freezing, his jacket and hat had begun to frost over, not that he really noticed. All he cared about was Charlie.

He rang her doorbell again, harder this time. A part of him was sorry for having to wake her, but this was too important. She needed to know what had happened, and...he needed to say goodbye.

A light flickered on in one of the windows, and he stepped back a bit from the door. 

Charlie pulled the door open, wiping sleep from her eyes. She was in pajamas, feet bare. Her hair was down and going several different directions, but she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. 

“Connor?” She looked at him, then really looked at him—his frozen clothes, the odd look on his face. “Jesus! Get inside, you’re half frozen—”

“Charlie—”

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in before he could say another word, slamming the door behind her. It was much warmer inside.

“C’mon, off, we gotta get you something warm,” she demanded, taking his jacket off of him, and his beanie. She was fully awake now. “Shirt too, come on,” she demanded as she brushed snow off his coat. “What the hell did you do?” 

He didn’t answer, he only watched as she disappeared into her bedroom, his frozen clothes still in her hands. She reappeared within seconds, holding a thick blanket in her other hand. 

“Charlie.” 

“Warm first, talk second,” she commanded, throwing the blanket at him. 

He caught it with ease, but he didn’t move. She disappeared again, into the little laundry room. He heard her crank her dryer on, toss his clothes in, and start it up. She came back out, pulling her hair out of her face. 

“Connor, you put the blanket  _ on _ , you don’t just hold it and look cute,” she reprimanded as her eyes landed on him, still standing there holding the blanket. 

She took the blanket and wrapped it around him before reaching up and patting him on the head as she finished. “There we go. Should warm you back up in no time.”

“Charlie.”

She met his eyes—his tone was serious. “Yes?”

He looked at her for a moment, at her eyes, those beautiful gray eyes that had started all this trouble. “I found Jericho…” he finally said. “Where the deviants were hiding.”

She was silent, something brewing in her expression, some silent hope, but also a little bit of fear.

“And…and I’ve seen Markus…”

He’d  _ seen  _ him?

“Did you…” her question trailed away. 

“Yes,” he answered quietly.

Charlie looked at him, a thousand different emotions flying through her eyes before she finally smiled, a little sadly. She took a step closer and hugged him, hard, and sudden, like earlier that day, only this was so much better. 

“I knew you wouldn’t kill him, you’re too damn good,” she said, mostly into the blanket, her voice muffled. 

He wrapped his arms around her too, holding her close. He was trying to memorize the way this felt. The way her hands were on his back, and her head was on his chest, and he could just rest his chin on her head, if he wanted to. The way she held him tight, like she didn’t plan on ever letting go...

“Charlie,” he said after a minute, his voice hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“I...I want to...thank you.”

She paused before she replied. “You don’t have to thank me, Connor. I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you did,” he insisted, and she looked up at him. “You...you’ve always treated me like a person, even though I did nothing to earn it. You’re the only person that I...that I trust...you were there for me when I didn’t think I needed anyone.”

“I care about you, Connor,” she said, her voice low. “And you’re here for me too, believe it or not.”

They were quiet for a second, the dryer the only noise echoing through the little house. 

“Charlie?” he asked again, hesitating.

“Yeah, Connor?”

“I love you.”

She paused, heart fluttering. 

“I love you too, Connor,” she sighed, tightening her grip on him even more. “So fucking much.”

Another silence passed between them as they held each other, breathing in the moment, letting it sink in.

“It was you,” he said suddenly. 

“What was me?” she asked as looked up at him. 

“You...you made me...deviate,” it was the first time that he had said it out loud. “I...I didn’t want to admit it, because I knew that...that if I did, then they could...they would come for me, and they could come for you. But...you’ve always treated me like I’m more than...more than a machine.”

“That’s because you are, Connor,” she didn’t even hesitate. “You’re so much more, you always have been. Even when my big dumb dog tackled you in the rain, even that first day, when you stood there and talked to me, random me, in the rain, for no particular reason. You’re so much more than a program, Connor…” she trailed off, brushing the stray hair off his forehead. “You all are.”

He didn’t know what to say in response. There was so much more that he owed to her, but he couldn’t find the words to say it. So he only looked at her, memorizing the way she looked at him, the hint of a smile on her expression.

“I’m glad we met, Connor,” she said quietly, a hand finding his. She met his gaze again. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in...in years.”

“I think…” he paused, holding her hand tighter, remembering the feeling of her hand in his. “I think you’re the best thing to happen to me...well, ever.”

She laughed, and he wanted to remember that sound forever. “I’m tempted to ask how long you’ve been alive, but that was way too sweet.” 

They fell quiet again, standing there in her living room holding hands, like they had just a few nights before. But this was much better; they both thought so. 

“Charlie...There’s something I have to do,” Connor said, his tone darkening. “To help…”

“What is it?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t say. “It’s dangerous, I...I might not…”

“Connor…”

“I have to do this. To make up for...for everything else that I’ve done. I have to help them. If I don’t...then I could lose you, and...and I can’t let that happen.”

He was looking down, looking at their joined hands.

“Hey,” she made him look at her again, putting a hand on his cheek and lifting his gaze up to meet hers. He had that look in his eyes again, like he was asking for forgiveness. “If there’s something you feel you need to do, then I won’t stop you. Just...please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He nodded, looking at her like he would never see her again. “I’ll come back,” he said, like he was trying to convince them both.

She smiled sadly. “There’s so much I want to do with you,” she said, her voice soft. “So much I want to tell you...You have to come back, Connor. I can’t lose you either.” 

“I know…” he paused. “I will come back, I promise.”

He held her hand tighter in his own, desperate to remember the feeling. All that he had just gained, and he was risking it. But this was the only way. If he didn’t help Markus, all of this would be for nothing. 

“Charlie,” he started, but he paused, looking down at their hands once more. “If...if something happens to me—”

“Don’t talk like that,” she cut him off. “We’ll be okay.”

“No, please,” he insisted. She had to hear this. “If I’m...if I’m caught, then they could come for you…”

“What do you mean?” There was fear in her voice.

“They have access to my memory, if they catch me. They...they could find you. If…” he hesitated again, his expression pained. “If I don’t come back by tomorrow night, then please, please promise me that you’ll leave.”

“Leave? I can’t—I can’t leave you—”

“You won’t be,” he said, his eyes sad. “If I can make it out...then I’ll find you. But...if I can’t, then you’ll be safe—”

“I don’t care if I’m safe,” she said, and she meant it, her voice full of emotion. She held his face in her hands, a whole sea of emotions crammed into her eyes. “I care about  _ you _ , Connor.  _ Please _ come back. You  _ have  _ to come back.”

He pulled her in once again, and they held each other, neither of them wanting to let go. They didn’t know what would happen when they did...whether they would ever see each other again. 


	13. I Don't Know Why

Things were going according to plan.

The Tower was the same as it had been the last time he had been here, months ago when they had first activated him. It was strange to see the building once again, to think about the day he had been activated. Things had been so different then…

Just as it was when he was activated, the Tower was empty except for a few technicians and guards roaming around. Connor ignored them for the span of the few seconds they passed each other, and none of them gave him any notice. It was quite late at night at this point; most of the higher ups must have gone off for the night, leaving technicians running tests and guards manning the entrances.

He had made his way into the Tower without much issue, had dealt with the guards and disabled the security camera in the elevator. No one should have known that anything had changed. And sure enough no alarms were sounded as he descended deeper into the Tower.

The warehouse was almost silent, save for the sound of his shoes as he quickly made his way down the lines of androids. There were so many of them; Connor had never seen this many androids in one place. If he could get them all to Markus, they really would win this thing…

Might as well get the ball rolling. Stopping about halfway down, he turned to one of them, taking its arm and removing the artificial skin from his hand. It should be a relatively quick process to wake them, once they all started working with him. Connor wasn’t worried.

He was about half way through awakening the android when he heard footsteps, and he froze, looking back toward the elevators—but it was still stopped, it couldn’t have possibly moved. But where had that sound come from, then?

“Step back, Connor, and I’ll spare her!”

Connor turned at the sound of his own voice, his eyes landing on another RK800, with a serial number ending in -60 flashing on his jacket, as he came into view, a gun aimed at—

 _No_.

Charlie stumbled out of the line of androids, and Connor felt hollow. Her eyes were on the gun, but they snapped to Connor’s as she came to a stop, her steps faltering a bit as she saw him. There was blood on her hands, running down the side of her face—she must have fought against this other RK800, but she hadn’t won, clearly. She was hurt, he had endangered her…

But her eyes were like fire, unlike Connor had ever seen before, stormy and fierce and just _burning_. They were pained, yes, and scared, without a doubt, but there was so much more to her expression that he couldn’t quite name.

They looked at each other, silence stretching between them, showing the fear on both faces. Connor hadn’t yet moved, his hand still outstretched to the android he had nearly converted.

“Her life is in your hands,” the other RK800 said, and Connor looked at him briefly. “Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Her, or the revolution.”

“Connor, don’t—” Charlie started desperately, but she stopped, flinching as he put the gun closer to her head. “Don’t do this.”

Connor looked at her, at the blood on her face...he had done this. He had put her in danger, and now her life was on the line. He couldn’t let her be hurt any more than she already was. This other RK800 had used him, used his memories, just as he feared Cyberlife would. Why hadn’t he been faster? He couldn’t let Charlie get hurt, he had to come up with some kind of plan.

But he also needed to free these androids. He needed to get them away from here, to Markus, to stop Cyberlife for good. What was the point of saving her now if Cyberlife would be able to come for them, come for her, just a little later on? But he needed Charlie to be safe _now_ that was always his priority. He already knew what he would do, the second he was given the option.

“If I surrender,” he said heavily, turning to the other RK800 to avoid the look in Charlie’s eyes. “How do I know you won’t kill her?”

-60 almost smirked, but the expression was quickly wiped away. His LED briefly flashed yellow before it returned to (or was it forced to?) a calm and placid blue as he looked at Connor’s hopeless expression. “I’ll only do what’s strictly necessary to accomplish my mission,” he said mechanically. “It’s up to you whether or not that includes killing this human.”

They stared at each other tensely before Connor’s eyes shifted back to Charlie.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he said, his voice halting. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, almost smiling, sadly. “Just do what you need to do, please.”

“Enough talk!” the other RK800 burst in, putting the gun still closer to Charlie, who flinched back a step. “It’s time to decide who you are. Are you going to save the one you love? Or are you going to sacrifice her?”

Connor looked at Charlie again, at the desperate look in her eyes. She was telling him to wake the androids, to choose the revolution, to sacrifice her...but he couldn’t do that. Everything he had done was for her, so she could be safe, so they could be _together_ without the threat of Cyberlife hanging over their heads. But if he sacrificed her, what was the point? A free world without Charlie in it...it wasn’t a free world to Connor.

“Alright,” he said, dropping the arm of the android he had nearly converted and stepping away, hands up in surrender. “Alright...you win.”

The other RK800 turned immediately, aiming the gun at Connor. But Charlie launched herself at him, grabbing for the gun, trying desperately to get it away from him. She managed to get a firm enough grip on his wrist to make him pause, which gave her the change to pull him away for a moment. He pushed her off, but she grabbed him again, her hands still grappling for the gun, keeping him from firing it.

-60 elbowed her, hard, in the nose and she stumbled backward, fresh blood flowing now. She was dazed, her vision blurring, she didn’t have time to react. He turned the gun on her—perhaps he was tired of fighting her. After all, she was only one human. And Cyberlife didn’t care if they had to cover up one more death. She was getting in the way—she had to be removed. (Not that he had any say in such things).

But -60 never got the chance to fire the gun. Connor had finally sprung into action, tackling his copy to the ground, sending the gun skittering away from them across the floor. They stood, facing each other again, Connor looking furious, -60 looking something close to it, but far more caged. Both of them hesitated, as if waiting for the order to strike.

In the end, Connor threw the first punch, and after that, they were off and running. They were equally matched, neither of them really had the upper hand. Every blow either of them attempted, the other knew the counter to. They fought regardless, gaining almost no ground on either side. Connor managed to land a hit on -60 only for the same move to be used against him seconds later. -60 blocked Connor’s advances only to have his own checked by his doppleganger. A kick sent the real Connor sprawling, and just as he was about to defend himself—

“Stop!” Charlie shouted, her voice pained, wavering.

They both froze, looking up at her. She was standing over them a few feet away, blood trickling down her nose and onto her sweater. The gun was shaking in her hands as she aimed at them, tears streaking down her face, eyes stormy for a completely different reason now than they had been before. She was breathing hard, shaking, fear and adrenaline keeping her going.

They stood slowly, both of them moving with apprehension, hesitation clear in both of their stony expressions. Connor looked at her, trying to somehow convey to her that it was him. But she was looking between them, fear in her eyes, uncertainty as she looked at their identical faces. She couldn’t tell them apart.

The other RK800 took a step forward, toward her, but she aimed the gun at him immediately.

“Don’t move,” she said, her voice breaking a little bit as she looked at him. “Either of you. Or I’ll...or I’ll shoot.”

They glanced at each other briefly, -60 looking almost unsure, before that expression was wiped off his face, too. But both of them ultimately looked at her in silence, neither of them daring to move toward her now. She didn’t seem to know what to do, her eyes were darting between their faces, the gun shaking in her grip. Several seconds passed in an uneasy silence, the only sound Charlie’s frantic breathing.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Connor offered, and she looked at him. “Something only the real Connor would know?”

She nodded, looking down before looking at each of them again. “W-where did we meet?” she stuttered out.

“Outside Jimmy’s Bar,” the other RK800 immediately replied. “Your dog had gotten away from you, and he ran into me. You asked me why I was at the bar and I told you I was looking for someone. When you left, you said you’d see me ‘around town.’”

“He uploaded my memory,” Connor said quietly, and Charlie looked at him briefly.

Questions wouldn’t work, they would both know the answers. Even if the one who had answered was Connor, she couldn’t possibly tell that from just a question, especially if what this RK800 had just said was true. If they both had Connor’s memories, they would both know everything she could possibly ask them. But if questions were out, how else could she figure out which was the real Connor?

She needed a reaction, something that would _force_ Connor to react in a way that he wouldn’t have before he deviated. What would Connor do now that he wouldn’t have done before? Or rather, what would Connor react to that his machine equivalent would be unfazed by? She needed to make Connor show emotion, somehow…

A horrible idea came into her head, and she looked between them once again, though her expression was almost sad now. He wasn’t going to like this...she only hoped that he’d give himself away somehow. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself.

She put the gun to her temple.

“No!” Connor shouted, desperate, moving toward her—he didn’t think about her shooting him, or the other RK800, all he thought about was getting that gun away from her head.

But before Connor could reach her, she had turned, aiming the gun at -60, who hadn’t even flinched when she aimed the gun at herself.

There was a horrible bang, unlike anything she’d heard before—she had never even held a gun before today. The gun forced her hand back, occupying her attention for just a second before her eyes returned to -60. The ground seemed to slip out from under her as she watched the bullet hit him in the head. It was a lucky shot. He stumbled back a step, looking almost surprised, maybe even scared (but the expression was definitely different than it had been before) but the light was already leaving his eyes. The force of the shot pushed him back, and he collapsed.

But he didn’t die right away. No, for a moment, he was still alive—a poor side effect of being an android. He had less than a minute left, and all he could do was grasp desperately at the ground underneath him, making a rather sad sound. But time ran out, and he stilled with a final flinch, not moving after that.

There was a horrible, heavy silence.

Charlie stared at -60’s body on the ground, the growing puddle of thirium underneath him, frozen. It had suddenly become very difficult to breathe. She couldn’t stop looking at the body, like she had tunnel vision, and she was stuck, unable to tear her eyes away. That wasn’t Connor on the ground over there, that wasn’t Connor who she had shot, who she had taken the life away from. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t.

The gun slipped out of her hands, landing with a crack on the ground, but she barely heard the sound—her ears were ringing, and still she couldn’t look away. No, no, Connor, she had killed _Connor_.

“Charlie?” Connor’s voice was low, concerned.

“I...I killed him,” was all she could mumble. She took a step back, but her legs gave out, and she was on the ground, the impact jarring her.

“Charlie—”

“I killed _you_ ,” she said, horrified, her vision blurring with fresh tears. She was faintly aware of the taste of blood in her mouth.

“No, Charlie—”

But she hardly heard him, because she was staring at her hands, at the blood on them. It was her blood, yes, but it didn’t help. _She’d killed him._ She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, her heart was racing, she’d _killed_ someone...killed Connor. Or his twin, it didn’t matter. Yes he had threatened her, had hurt her, had nearly killed Connor, but she had _killed him_. She’d watched him die, and she was the cause, the hand behind the gun.

Connor knelt down next to her, reaching out and taking her hands gently. “I’m right here, Charlie,” he said, his voice careful, calming. “You didn’t hurt me, I’m here. That wasn’t me, Charlie.”

She tore her gaze away from her hands, bringing it slowly, fearfully to his eyes. All she could see was a bullet hitting him in the head, _her hand_ holding up the gun. But it wasn’t Connor, she had shot. It was the other RK800, -60, who had tried to kill them. She hadn’t killed Connor. This was Connor, looking at her now with worry—she knew that sad look in his eyes.

“That wasn’t me,” he said again, adamant, looking her straight in the eyes with the same stubborn determination she had grown so accustomed to. There was no machine-like coldness, no icy apathy, no caged emotion. It was all right there, right there in his eyes, like it always was. This was Connor.

She broke down, pulling him in desperately, sobbing hard into his shoulder. He tensed at the suddenness of the motion, but he put his arms around her carefully, smoothing her hair and whispering to her, reassuring her as she calmed down.

It took a few moments before she was breathing more normally, but she didn’t let him go. She needed to know he was alive, needed to feel it, to memorize this moment.

“I thought...I thought—”

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“When he...he said he was _you_ —a-and…”

“I’m so sorry,” Connor said, holding her tighter as he spoke. “I should have been faster, they must have realized what happened and sent him out.”

“I’m just glad you’re _alive_ ,” she said, her voice still trembling. “He told me...he told me you were dead...or you would be. I didn’t—I didn’t know what had happened, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time.

She pulled back, looking him in the eye. “It’s not your fault, Connor,” she said, as if it were obvious. “This...this is Cyberlife’s fault. Not yours.”

He didn’t reply right away, his eyes searching her face. “He broke your nose,” he said a little flatly, scanning her.

“I’m alright,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“You could have a concussion,” Connor said, his tone disbelieving. “I wouldn’t call that alright.”

He tilted her chin up gently with his hand, looking more closely at the cut on the side of her face. It wasn’t bad, but it would bruise.

“We’ll figure it out…” she said lightly as he looked at her.

He raised an eyebrow at that, and she almost laughed at his expression. He dropped his hand from her face, looking at her more seriously.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitated. “Why did you point the gun at yourself?”

She sighed, looking down. “I...I needed a reaction. It was the only way I could think of to get you to...to act differently than he would…”

He didn’t reply right away, looking down at their joined hands. “Please don’t do it ever again,” he said quietly.

“I don’t ever want to hold a gun again,” she assured him, her voice thick.

They were quiet once more, holding each other’s hands and bringing themselves back from the edge for just another moment. Charlie’s eyes floated back over to -60, something shifting in her expression.

“I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have killed him…”

“He nearly killed you, Charlie. And he was not a deviant. He wouldn’t have listened to anything we said.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Charlie said bitterly, looking up at Connor quickly, something a little broken in her eyes. “Look how long it took you to deviate, Connor. He could have...he could have had a life, and I took it away…”

Connor frowned. “You didn’t have a choice,” he insisted.

“There’s always a choice, Connor…” she said again, sniffling and looking down at her hands.

Connor wasn’t sure what to say to convince her she had done the right thing. -60 would not have backed down, that he was sure of. He shared the same tenacity for the mission Connor had when he was first activated, the same passive acceptance of any order given to him...right? Surely he wouldn’t have listened to them.

He shook his head. Connor couldn’t afford to think like this, not now. Charlie was safe, that was all that mattered to him.

“You should probably do your thing,” Charlie said quietly, looking up at him again and  gesturing to the rows of androids.

Connor nodded before he stood, extending his hand to Charlie and helping her up. He went back to the android he had nearly awoken earlier, his steps more sure than they had been, now that he knew there were no more threats to handle. The artificial skin pulled away from his hand once again as he connected to the android, pulling it awake and into life.

-60 lay dead on the floor.

***

“Miranda—turn on the news—”

“What’s happening?”

“Charlie’s—”

“What—”

“She’s on—she’s on the stage with—”

Miranda was already turning on her television, and the broadcast appeared. The deviant leader, on a stage, giving some rousing speech in front of crowds and crowds of androids. There had to be thousands of them out there, half of them with their plastic showing, the other half in those awful outfits they sold androids in.

But what concerned her were the two people standing off to the side of the stage, in support. She recognized the android—the Deviant Hunter—she had been keeping up with the news—but he was with the deviants now? He certainly looked different than the last time they had been showing him off. He looked...almost human. And...and next to him—he had his arm around her, holding her up, almost. She was holding his hand. They were whispering to each other—she looked happy…

“Miranda? Are you there?”

“I’m here.” Her voice was pained.

“She’s...she’s hurt—”

“I…” she hadn’t even noticed it until then, but Elise was right—there was blood on her face, her nose was broken and bruising.

“Should we call her?”

Miranda hesitated, her eyes hardening into something cold and cracked. “No.”

She shut off the television.


	14. But I Guess It's Got Something to Do With You

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Connor’s voice was concerned.

“Yeah,” Charlie answered breathily, looking up at him and mustering a smile.

They were leading the group of androids toward the camps, marching together through Detroit. It was a beautiful night—the snow was falling lightly, dusting everything just a bit white. The city was mostly abandoned, the last of the swat teams and FBI were fleeing. It was an odd sight to behold.

Connor still held Charlie’s hand as they marched, his worried gaze on her more often than the roads they walked. They had cleaned her up as best as they could, for now, but she would need to go to a hospital at some point for her broken nose. It was already bruising, as were several other places on the side of her head and her arms. -60 had apparently done quite a bit of damage to her when she tried to escape him.

If she were honest, it hurt more than she was letting on. Her head was pounding with every step she took, she could feel the soreness setting into her arms and legs. She had fought the other RK800 hard, when he had taken her. At the time, she hadn’t really felt it, but now it was setting in.

But she didn’t want to leave Connor. She wanted to be there for him, be there _with_ him. And it was far better to hold his hand, to know in the moment that he was alive and okay, than to sit at home alone, to worry. It was far better to focus her attention on the physical pain she was feeling than on the image of that bullet hitting -60 in the head. She didn’t want to think about him at all.

“We’re almost there,” Connor said a little while later, trying to be reassuring.

Charlie smiled at him, trying to make it reach her eyes. She leaned her head into his chest for a moment, focusing on the snow falling around them.

A few minutes later, they reached the place that Markus had told Connor to meet him, if he succeeded. The group from Jericho slowly came into view through the snow. They were battleworn, but alive, they were alive. And Connor _had_ succeeded—the humans were fleeing because he had freed all those androids.

Markus watched the group approach with curiosity. He could just make out Connor at the front, and someone with him, holding his hand and leaning into him. A woman...a human woman. That had to be Charlie, the one Connor was protecting.

As they got closer, he noticed that she was injured—her nose appeared to be broken, and there was blood on the side of her face, on her shirt. But she was smiling at Connor, saying something to him, brushing her hair out of her face.

Recognition lit up Markus’ expression, then, as he got a closer look at her face. He had seen her before, in Stratford Tower. She was the woman who had fled the broadcast room—the one North had told him to shoot. But he had refused—he wouldn’t kill...it would do them no good.

He found himself very glad he had _not_ taken that shot. Who knows what could have happened if he had? He doubted Connor would have deviated, and even if he had, he would have done so on completely different terms. From what Markus had gathered, Connor deviating had been a positive...but if Charlie were gone, Markus doubted that would have been the case.

And Connor would have known who had killed her.

The way he had spoken about her at Jericho...he clearly loved her, enough to forfeit his own freedom to ensure her survival. If she were gone, Markus had no idea what Connor would have become. As he was, he was nothing to be trifled with, a dangerous man with more than his fair share of deadly combat skills and inhuman efficiency—but if he lost the one thing he cared about…

Loss has a way of defining a person, and Markus had a feeling that would hold incredibly true for Connor. To lose what appeared to be the only positive force in his life...that would serve him no benefit.

Their arrival drew Markus out of his thoughts, and he closed the distance between them, watching Connor, whose expression was near unreadable. _A hard egg to crack._ Charlie was looking at Markus almost happily, her hand still wound up tightly with Connor’s.

“You did it, Markus,” Connor said, looking around them.

“ _We_ did it,” Markus corrected him, and he meant it. He looked at Charlie, then at Connor. “I see you had help.”

“Things...did not exactly go to plan,” Connor said flatly, and Charlie stifled a smile.

“You must be Charlie,” Markus offered, a hint of a smile in his expression.

“You’re Markus,” was her casual reply, as if she’d known all along. “Thanks for not shooting me.”

He almost laughed, looking down at her. “My pleasure. I suppose I have you to thank for this as well,” he said, gesturing at the crowds of androids that had followed them.

“Not intentionally,” she replied, eying Connor with a characteristic smirk. Markus noticed the way Connor’s eyes softened when he looked at her, and he didn’t try to hide his smile at that.

“Markus,” this from Simon, who had approached them as they spoke. “You should speak to them,” he said, looking to the crowds once again.

They all followed his gaze, and Markus nodded, taking Simon’s hand and leading them away with a wave of his hand.

So they followed him to that makeshift stage, standing a little to the side as he spoke to the crowds. Charlie leaned into Connor again, squeezing his hand.

“Everything’s going to be different now,” she whispered, her tone almost hopeful.

Connor looked down at her for a moment, that half smile on his face. “I suppose it is…”

“I love you, Connor.”

“I love you, too,” he replied immediately, and he leaned his head on hers.

They were quiet as Markus continued to speak, listening to his rousing words. It wasn’t a question of when they would be free, anymore...they had done it. Change would have to come now, there was no way around it. The crowds cheered, and no one could hold back their smile then. They were free...

As the crowds began to disperse back into the city, and Markus and the others left to find some shelter of their own, Connor and Charlie made their slow way back toward Charlie’s house. Neither of them really had to ask; they knew that was where they were going.

“I wonder if Hank saw what happened,” Charlie mused as they walked.

“I don’t know…” Connor said, eyes thoughtful. “I haven’t spoken to him since I left the station...”

“We’ll call him tomorrow,” Charlie assured him. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

_All the time in the world…_

“What do you think you’ll do now?” Charlie asked, curious.

“I don’t know,” Connor said, and he thought for a moment. “I could keep working with the DPD, I suppose...if it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Now there was worry in her voice, and in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“I...I don’t know what exactly Cyberlife plans to do now, but...I doubt they’re happy with me.”

“They can’t possibly try to stop this now,” Charlie said squeezing his hand reassuringly. “This is bigger than they are.”

She had a point. It would be difficult for Cyberlife to turn the tide of public opinion back against androids. Most people seemed at least willing to compromise...but that didn’t stop Connor from worrying, nonetheless.

“We should be okay, at least for a little while…” Charlie said, seemingly knowing he wasn’t exactly confident in their safety.  “I have enough money to take care of you...we can lie low for a bit.”

“Lie low?”

“Yeah, well...obviously I have to spoil you. Buy you clothes, and a phone, and oh, so much music and movies. Oh god, we are gonna go on a _spree_.”

“I don’t see how that’s lying low…” he said, but he was smiling.

“Oh, come on, let me buy you completely unnecessary things and then we can hide out for weeks in my house, it’ll be great. What do you say?”

She was smiling at him. What else could he say?

“Okay.”

***

A few weeks had passed since the revolution had ended. Detroit was still relatively quiet—people were slowly making their way back to their homes as the evacuation orders were lifted. The androids were finding their own temporary places to stay within the city. Markus, Simon, and the rest of Jericho were on the news more times than anyone really wanted to count. No one really knew what was going to happen in the future, but there was hope, where there had only ever been despair. There were miles left to go, of course, but it was a start.

A start that felt pretty good, if Charlie was honest. She was alive, _Connor_ was alive, she couldn’t ask for more.

After everything that had happened, it was nice to just drive. To watch the Android City disappear in the rear view mirror, to blast music and just _be_ for a moment.

“Do you always listen to music at this volume?” Connor practically shouted over the sound of Africa by Toto.

“No, this is just for Africa,” Charlie replied, smiling at his confused expression.

They were leaving—not forever, Charlie wanted to go on a road trip. After things had settled down a bit, she had dragged Connor to a mall to get him new clothes, taken him to the movies, talked and talked and talked for hours. She had bought him a phone, a music player (loaded it with “the classics”), endless other small things that she deemed essential to life. She had taken him to parks just to walk around, to dinner, even though he didn’t eat, to libraries where she loaded his arms with books he _had_ to read; she had done so many little things for him.

She had taken him in when he didn’t have anywhere else to go. She had given him a new life when he didn’t really know what that entailed. And he was loving every second of it.

They had been doing so much that he wasn’t surprised to find her packing her car one chilly morning. He had noticed her dragging something out the door, but he hadn’t become concerned until she didn’t come back inside for several minutes.

When he came outside, she was absorbed in trying to close the trunk of her car, and didn’t hear him approach. Her hair was tied up haphazardly, her shabby coat mostly falling off.

“What are you doing?” he had asked her, and she had looked up at him, that smirk on her face.

“We are going on a road trip,” she’d said matter-of-factly. “There’s forty seven other continental states we can drive to, and you haven’t seen any of them. Hell, I’ve only seen maybe seven.”

“A road trip?”

“Yeah.” She finally got the trunk closed and leaned against it, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes. Connor was still looking at her, confused.

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s a whole world out there, Connor,” she said, gesturing around her before bringing her eyes back to his. “I wanna see it, and I wanna see it with you.”

He was drawn out of the memory as she cranked the stereo impossibly louder with an excited squeal of, “THIS IS THE BEST PART!”

And then she was absolutely screaming the chorus of Africa, pointing at him and smiling, somehow maintaining perfect control over the car. Not every note was right, but she didn’t seem to care, she just kept going, smiling and laughing at Connor’s silly expression as he watched her.

He loved her. He definitely did.

***

Miles and miles behind them, back in Detroit, on some quiet suburban street, in front of a little house with snow dusting its roof, three nearly identical androids stood in the street.

One of them had thirium running down his face, half dried but still flowing from an ugly gunshot wound to the head. He had a hard look in his eyes as he stood rigid in the shadows, lurking just behind the android in the middle, a slight shake to his shoulders, and a gun in his hand. There was a harshness to the way he looked at the house, cold, mechanical, unmoving and completely inhuman. The chaotic yellow spinning of his LED was the only sign of his life, besides the rapid churning of a dark something in his eyes.

The other, practically his twin, was leaning heavily on the one in the middle, hands holding desperately to the taller android, confusion and unbridled fear occupying the majority of his expression. His eyes darted quickly from place to place, as if searching constantly for some threat, and he flinched every few seconds like he had been struck, holding tighter to the other android’s arm and leaning into him. The dark red LED lit his damaged face a sickly shade of crimson, cracks running up the right side from his jaw all the way to his LED. It seemed to go in tandem with the broken look in his dark eyes, the horrible shaking that seemed to occupy all of his movement. There was very little fresh thirium on him, but he held himself in a way that suggested greater damage had been done, as if he had been nearly destroyed and hastily repaired. Perhaps that was the reason why he clung so tightly to the android in the middle.

The third android stood calmly in the middle of the two, holding the damaged android to him with something close to tenderness. It didn’t match the look on his face in the slightest. There was no softness in his expression, not even a touch of hesitation as he regarded the building before him. He looked at the house with a clear disdain, something between distrust and poorly veiled anger. With every nervous jump, every frantic hitch of breath from the android he held close to him, he seemed to grow more tense, his eyes hardening and hardening until they were something like ice. His LED spun a slow blue as his eyes swept the building, looking for any sign of life. Those eyes were different from the others', not that he cared in the slightest. But it was important, nonetheless.  _His_ eyes were cold.

Cold, clear, and a startling shade of blue-gray.


End file.
